Abyss
by zarah joyce
Summary: FINISHED. Draco saves Hermione the night Hogwarts is attacked. Now, complications arise between the two as they fight their feelings, as well as other foes, in reclaiming their lost school.
1. A Surprise Indeed

**Abyss**

Her eyes burned with the heat of the tears that were threatening to make their trails down her cheeks had she shown enough weakness to shed them. 

Of course, such a thing was not an option for her. Instead, she blinked repeatedly so as to keep them hidden in the recesses, in the corners of her eyes. Pride was never limited to purebloods alone, and Hermione was not stupid enough as to allow herself to cry in front of one. 

She remembered that she was sleeping quite peacefully when the world crashed around her. Cries, howls, and screams pulled her from her dreams and pushed her right into a nightmare that was the reality of that night. She awoke to find that she could detect a faint, acrid smell of smoke in the air. Immediately, she got out of bed and roused Lavender and Parvarti from their slumber. Only then did she learn that Padma was there too, as the Ravenclaw had decided to sleep with her sister that night.

The four girls grabbed their wands and made their way to the door. There was no more time to collect any of their things; what only matters was that they got out of the castle, which by then was a place filled with terror and panic, with burning and chaos.

As Hermione pulled open the door, she distinctly remembered the caution that Dumbledore has always given them: Voldemort has risen, and his Death Eaters can come and attack their school at any time. They had been practicing a route that the students should take when that time comes. It always pays well to be prepared.

But as the door opened, never in their life could they be prepared for a sight such as _this_.

The corridor that led to one of the exits of the school was littered with students, both dead and alive. Those that were alive were the reason why there were those that were dead. 

And Pansy Parkinson was one of those who were alive. The Slytherin became aware of the presence of the Gryffindors from behind her. With agility Hermione never knew Pansy possessed, she disarmed the four girls of their wands, and now there was no way they could protect themselves from the inevitable, from the fate that befell the other students that lay dead on the floors of Hogwarts.

Pansy smiled brilliantly at them, pointed her wand at Lavender, Parvarti and Padma, and cursed.

And that left Hermione alive, and alone. 

"What?" Pansy inquired of her, as the Slytherin witch tapped her wand against her open palm. She grinned triumphantly. "No words to say to me, Mudblood? Not that I'd blame you, after all, you _must be cowering in fear just about now."_

Hermione lifted her chin, dignity filling her face as she stared at the other woman with nothing but contempt. "Cower? I will never do such a thing," she said through clenched teeth. "I will never fear _you, Parkinson. You are nothing but a vile bitch who feels powerful just because you __have a wand and I _don't._" _

Pansy's nostrils flared, and her eyes flashed brightly with ill-concealed hatred towards the other woman. "You… you filthy _plebian!" she shrieked. "How dare you insult me, when you have nothing in your hands but a prayer and __my mercy! It's just your luck that I am a very kind person, and _that_ is the only reason why you are still alive and breathing, unlike __some of your disgusting friends." She vaguely motioned on the floor with her wand, where the bodies of Lavender Brown and the Patil twins lay on their backs.   _

The Gryffindor sneered at her. "I never had the impression that I was under the mercy of one Pansy Parkinson," she said in a low tone. "If I had known, then I would've used the prayer I hold in my hands and pray for my death, because I would very much want to rot in hell rather than owe my life to the likes of _you_."

"That's it!" Pansy howled, her eyes now blazing with fearsome fury. But just as quickly as it contorted into an angry mask, her face smoothened out, and a beatific smile graced her lips as she stared at her enemy. She now looked as though she had just been granted her most fervent wish. "Looks like your luck ran out, Hermione." She pointed the wand she held at her, and whispered, "Prepare to die."

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the killing curse, waited for death to claim her in its swift wings.

Indeed, she felt her skin crawl as she heard the words _Avada__ Kedavra as they were muttered, but despite the loud pounding of her heart, she heard that there was the sound of another body falling as the result of the curse. _

But wait… wasn't _she _the supposed recipient of that curse? She opened her eyes, and she gasped at the sight of Pansy sprawled on her stomach, the wand that she used to kill so many lying innocently on one side. 

Hermione raised her face, and gaped at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing close to where Pansy was only moments ago. "…Malfoy?" she whispered, bewilderedly and almost too low to be heard.

But he did hear it. Draco lowered his wand and looked at her hard. "Go," he barked. "Go on, get out of here."

She blinked furiously as she glanced at Pansy, and then at him. "What…" she trailed off, completely confused at the events that unfolded. "…why?"

Draco shook his head. "There's no time to explain," he told her. "You need to get out of here, Granger. Go on, I'll watch your back."

"Watch my…back?" Hermione then closed her mouth, and glared at him. "_You_, Malfoy, are going to watch _my_ back?" She laughed. "Do you really think I'm an idiot that I would willingly turn my back on _you, and give you the opportunity to kill me while I'm at my most vulnerable?"_

He seethed visibly, and clutched at the wand he held. "You do know, Hermione, that I could attack you _now_, seeing as you have no means of defending yourself against me," he stated bluntly. "I could curse you and hex you with every little spell I know, and you can do nothing but receive it. But I am doing no such thing, as you can clearly see. I do not attack my enemy while we are not on equal footing."

"Seeing as you've just killed Pansy while her back was turned on you, forgive me for not believing your words, Draco Malfoy," Hermione told him. 

"Stupid, stubborn Gryffindor…" Draco launched himself at Hermione, his actions so fast he might as well have disappeared from his spot and appeared in front of her. He grabbed her arm and began to forcibly pull her towards the door.

"Malfoy!" Hermione demanded as she was dragged against her will. "Let me go! Where are you taking me?"

He ignored her words, but her incessant struggling did slow them down a bit. With a vile curse thrown in the air, he released her arm, grabbed her by the waist, and literally lifted her off her feet. He continued running towards the door.

"Mal_foy_!" she shrieked indignantly. "I demand that you release me this instant!" She pounded her fists against the arm that held her to his chest, but she might as well have been punching a wall. His arms were lead against her body, his grip as hard as steel around her waist. "You… where are you…" Just as she was about to start another rampage, he clamped his hand on her mouth, and tightened his hold on her. She quieted down, but to her surprise he halted his movements and simply listened. 

In the eerie silence, she could hear no more screaming, or struggling. In the frightening silence, she could only hear the pounding of his heart, and of her own. 

Moments later, she heard the sounds of feet moving, the sounds of robes swishing.

"They're coming," Malfoy whispered, as if he was talking to himself. "They're coming here." As though it was possible, he lifted and brought her body in closer contact with his. His grip around her waist was so tight she could hardly breathe, but she couldn't talk because his hand was still covering her mouth.

He looked around them, as if trying to think of a way to escape. Seeing as he couldn't go back to where they came from, and he cannot advance to where they should be going, he looked at the side, and spotted the window.

Hermione's heart pounded even louder than before. Surely he wasn't thinking… was he? "No!" came her muffled protest. "Nooo!!!"

But her protests were ignored, as Malfoy ran towards the window, and with her in his arms, he jumped out, and fell into the abyss. 

**Author's Note: **I know, I'm cruel at leaving it here (sadistic laughter echoes in the background) *AHEM!* but please review ;) I'll appreciate it if you do!


	2. Caught

**Abyss **

She had already cursed him with every little curse she knew, but as she had no wand, nothing she said ever had any effect on him. _Stupid ferret, the minute we jump out that window, we're as good as dead… oh, if this is how I am going to die, then I think I much prefer Pansy's Avada curse than this!!! Falling to my death while in the hands of a ferret… Idiot, idiot Malfoy! If we ever get out of this alive, I swear I'm going to make you pay!_

Hermione shut her eyes tightly as the window got closer and closer. She had to hand it to him though; the ferret boy was stealthy, and fast. Not to mention insane. _Oh, my God! He's going to jump… that's it, he really lost it… oh my God, we're going to die! _

He kept his hold on her waist, but he did remove his hand over her mouth as he reached the window, and jumped. She peeked, saw the ground rushing towards them in an unbelievable speed, closed her eyes again, and screamed. 

Only this time, there was no sound that came from her open mouth. It was as though her throat had constricted permanently because of confusion, fear, _panic_. She felt tears on her eyes again, and she twisted and clutched at the arm that held her, as if that mere action alone was going to save them from falling to their deaths. Any moment now, they were going to feel the impact of the fall. Any moment now, they were going to lie on the ground, broken bones, bloodied bodies, and all… Tears finally leaked out of her eyes as she imagined how their bodies would look like, lying there, all mangled and so very dead… 

Just then, the feeling of falling stopped. Draco's whole arm dug excruciatingly on her waist, and for one full moment, she thought that he had permanently crushed and damaged her internal organs. In one, solid moment, she felt as though she couldn't breathe properly, and vaguely wondered if she would die due to suffocation. Hermione wasn't sure if the next thought was relevant, but the fact that his arm had probably marred her skin permanently _did _manage to cross her mind. 

But when she gained the ability to breathe normally, albeit rather painfully, she opened her eyes, and saw that the ground was still below them, but not as frighteningly far as before. Of course, falling from that height would still cause them injuries, but not as severe as that of the height earlier. They both were suspended, caught on… something. But as she looked up, Hermione saw that it was Draco's hand that stopped them from their descent. His hand, holding tightly on a branch of one tree, saved them both. He clutched at that branch as though their very lives depended on it, and the truth of the matter was…it did. 

And it was then that she noticed that he donned on a painful expression on his face, his own eyes closed, his mouth thinned to a single line. Upon her closer inspection, she found out that his hand was bleeding terribly, as if what he had managed to catch was a sharp twig or a pointed piece of wood. 

"Malfoy," she said softly, her voice strained. Hermione's eyes were round and big as she stared up at his face, as she watched his expression with no small amount of pity. "Malfoy, you have to let go of me." 

At those words, he opened his eyes. "Idiot girl," he breathed, and she felt his whole chest shift as he spoke. "Do you know what would happen to you if I dropped you?" 

She glanced at the floor below them, but she was mindful of her actions for any other sudden movement would only serve to aggravate his already wounded hand. "I would fall," she admitted in a low tone, "but it's not that high. I'll live." 

"No." 

At that word, she sharply turned towards him, and later regretted her action as he hissed painfully. Their bodies swung slightly as they moved. "Now who's being the idiot?" she asked him, her tone severe. "You saved me, and I don't know why you did, but the least I could do in return is to not add my weight to yours as we're hanging here. Your wound must be deep as it is, my weight would only—" 

He smirked at her, the distressed expression on his face temporarily swept away. "I would admit that you're not as light as a feather, Granger," he said low. "But I'm not letting you go." 

She frowned at him. "Stupid, stubborn Slytherin…" she said beneath her breath. And then, something dawned upon her. Hermione lifted her hands off his arm and then reached backwards, her palms feeling around his waist. 

"What are you doing?" Malfoy demanded at her actions. 

She could tell that he was uncomfortable with her touch by the clipped tone of his voice. "Looking for your wand," she retorted. Finally, she found the piece of useful wood she was looking for. Hermione took it from the waist pocket of his pants, pointed at the ground, and called out a spell that would soften it momentarily. A thin glow emanated from the tip of the wand struck the ground. She looked up at him again. "Now you can let go, and we both won't be hurt." 

He looked doubtful. "Are you sure? It's still a long way to fall—" 

"Then how come you didn't think of that before you jumped out that window?" she hissed at him. 

Draco glared at her, before he allowed his grip around the branch to loosen. They felt the sensation of falling towards the earth again, but before she could feel the ground, he twisted them so that he would feel it first. 

Hermione landed on top of him as a result of his move. He was now lying on his back with her on his chest. Quickly, she lifted herself off his body, and looked at his face. "Malfoy?" she called to him. She tried to ignore the worried feeling she had when she saw that his eyes were closed. Was he hurt? 

He finally opened his eyes, and he blinked as he looked at her. "Granger?" he asked. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," she retorted, quite startled at the question and the fact that _he _asked it. And then, she whispered, "Are you insane?" 

Draco snorted as he straightened himself. "I must be," he said as he stood up. 

Hermione stood up as well. "You do realize that you've just killed Pansy, didn't you?" she asked him seriously. 

He stared at her grimly, and didn't say anything in return. 

That was when Hermione realized that she was only wearing a nightgown. The air had a certain chill in it, as though it were basking in the coldness of death and destruction that was happening inside the castle. She shivered, and he saw it. But he didn't do anything about that, and for his lack of gallantness, she was thankful, because she honestly didn't know what to think anymore if he offered her his robes as well. 

Draco then flinched as he moved his hand. Upon seeing this, Hermione looked around her, and spotted his wand lying just by the roots of the tree. She dashed for it, and grabbed it. She looked at him to find out that he was staring at her with a clearly offended expression on his face. 

"You're going to curse me, after I saved you?" he muttered through clenched teeth. "Is this the thanks I get, after I risked my—" 

She pointed his wand at him, and that effectively silenced him. "No, you prat," she said. She took steps towards him until she was in front of him. She reached for his injured hand. "I was meaning to heal this for you," she told him. And with that, she tapped his wand against his skin, and watched as the wound mended itself. 

He looked at his hand, and then back at her. "Why?" 

Hermione shrugged. "Because I thought it was only fitting that I heal you after you saved me," she said softly. "I _do_ know how to express my gratitude, opposed to what you may believe." And then, she fixed him with a steady glare. "But I guess the real question here is why you _did_, when you could have just left me to die." 

"I don't have to explain anything to you," he said firmly. Draco thrust his hand out to her. "Give me back my wand." 

She clutched at it tighter. "Why?" Hermione repeated her question. 

He glared at her, his silver eyes glinting dangerously. "You have a lot of questions, Granger, and I don't have time to answer them all. Now, if you want to live, then give. Me. My. Wand." 

She took a step back. "Why? Did you just save me from Pansy so that you can kill me yourself? Is that the reason, Malfoy? Do you hate me that much?" 

Draco cursed, and then charged at her. In moments, he had her pinned against the bark of the tree, his hands trapping hers, his wand falling aimlessly on the ground beside them. His face was full of intense emotions that were frightening to behold. He was so close to her that she could feel the heat of his breath against her own skin. 

"Why do you always want to know everything, you silly little girl?" he snarled. "Fine then. Do you want to know the reason why I saved you?" He released her, grabbed his wand, and said, "It's because _I don't hate you at all."_

Continuation coming soon…


	3. Truth and Lies

**Abyss**

"It's because I don't hate you at all."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes transfixed at his face. He said those words with such vicious intensity that she had difficulty in asking herself if he was mocking her with these words. But what was he saying? Draco Malfoy, _not hating her? Really, it was such an outrageous, ludicrous idea. She would have laughed if she could. And this coming from _him! _ What about all those years of hurling and trading insults, then? Were those words meaningless after all? Were all the animosity and unfriendly competition between them just some little game of pretense? She pursed her lips, and said, "I don't believe you." She took a step forward, and removed herself from the bark of the tree that was her prison moments earlier. Her lips twisted into a smirk of their own. "__You, Malfoy, not hating a Mudblood like me? That's just absurd."_

Draco took a step back, shoved his wand beneath his robes and turned away from her. "You ask me why I saved you, and I answer you, and _now you dare tell me that I'm lying?" His shoulders shook with silent mirth, and each chuckle teased her with the purpose behind them. "Granger, Granger. Truly, you are a magnificent piece of work."_

She did not miss the sarcasm that coated his every word. "I can say the same about you, Malfoy," she returned with equal malice. Hermione folded her arms in front of her chest, and winced slightly as she accidentally applied pressure to the sensitive area on her waist. "Honestly, do you expect that I will just buy every little thing you tell me? Just because you saved me from my death does not mean that, from here on forwards, I will blindly accept everything you say."

He whirled around, his face curled into a hideous mask of anger directed towards nothing else but at her. "I don't remember asking you to," he told her. "I don't care whether or not you believe me."

"I might believe you if you start telling me the truth," she challenged him.

"What difference will it make?" he asked, his tone almost sounding tired. "Clearly you think all I tell you are absolute lies."

"Aren't they?" Hermione asked him softly, mockingly. She stared at him still, her eyes hardened like stones in her face. "Are you going to tell me the truth if I ask you why these things are happening to our school? Are you going to tell me the true reason why I just saw most of your Slytherin friends attacking and killing their schoolmates without even the slightest provocation? _Are you going to lie to me if I ask you if you knew that all these things will be happening tonight?_" 

Draco looked away, and breathed, "No."

"No?" Hermione pressed. "No, as in you won't lie to me? Or, no, you won't tell me anything at all?"

He closed his eyes briefly, breathed deeply, then looked at her again. "No," he repeated. Then, "I don't regret saving you and killing Pansy." 

She was understandably startled by the vague answer and the fact that he avoided all her questions altogether. "Malfoy—"

"Look, Granger," he said as he walked towards her slowly, his feet silent against the ground. He approached her and took her by the arm again. "I'd love to stay and chat with you about how I don't seem to know the meaning of the word 'truth', and how I am the absolute embodiment of all things evil, _but_ unfortunately, we don't have the time. You have to escape, or else you'd—" he deliberately cut himself off from saying more. 

But of course she understood, and she knew, what the unspoken word was. "Die?" she finished for him. Her voice shook at the very real possibility of her death happening that night.

Draco pursed his lips, his expression very grim. "Or worse," he said. "There are worse things in this world than death, Granger. Especially for goody-good Gryffindors such as yourself. Remember that." He started pulling her again, and this time, when he ran towards the gates of Hogwarts she was running with him as well.

Hermione ran with all the energy she can muster. Her feet collided painfully with the ground, and the muscles on her legs and thighs were now sore, but on she ran. She tried in her damnedest to keep her eyes forwards, but she cannot help herself; she looked back at the castle, and saw the burning of her beloved school. "No," she sobbed pitifully. She stopped and tried to pull away from the hand that held her. "No! Harry, Ron! Malfoy, I need to—"

He stopped and faced her, his face darkened with fury. "Enough with the bravery and the heroism, Granger! It won't do you any good."  

"But they… they might—"

"Be dead," he finished harshly. "And you won't be any good for them if you die with them. So you might as well start accepting that fact and move on."

His words were like knives through her heart. For a moment she marveled at the injustice of it all; here she was, alive, whereas the others… _Harry, Ron… _she stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. "Did you—" she started, her voice small, weak, trembling, "did you see them die?"

He said nothing.

Her face hardened considerably as she considered one possible angle, one possible reason why he wasn't answering her. "Did you _kill them?" There was venom in her voice as she spat these words. _

"I am not a murderer. I'm _not one of them."_

Hermione heard the words; she heard the quiet conviction that belied each piece, and she even saw the flash of stubbornness in his cold, cold eyes. Suddenly, she laughed at him. _At _him. The mirth in them was palpable, and it gratified her to see him seething. She gripped his hand with her own, gripped at it with all the strength she could give. She could feel his fingers between hers, and she used her own bones to squeeze his rather painfully. "I get it now," she said between harsh, cruel laughs. "I get it now, Malfoy."

"What do you mean?"

"I know now why you saved me," she said, and her face now held the widest, most triumphant smile she could display. Her laughter slowly died on its own.

"Do you really?" he taunted her. "Care to enlighten me, then, on why I am tolerating your presence?"

But Hermione was undaunted. "You want proof," she told him. "You want something, some evidence, that will convince you that indeed, _you are not one of them._" She pulled away from him, and this time she was able to free herself. "You need to see for yourself that you can do something to prove that you are not evil. You want redemption, Malfoy. That's why you saved me. That's why you've been tolerating my presence all along, because if you left me to die—" she glared at him, and her eyes was flashing dangerously, "if you left me to die, then all your hopes of becoming redeemed dies with me. And that will leave you with nothing, with no option, other than accept the evilness that you so desperately want to run away from." 

Draco stared at her, his eyes chips of diamonds in their rigidity. He curled and uncurled his lips to show his displeasure. "You think you're so smart, do you, Hermione?" he started, his voice sugary, sickeningly sweet. "You think you know it all. You think you know me so well. But I hate to burst your bubble—"

"It's the truth, don't you see, Malfoy?" she said, and her voice suddenly lost all the steel and anger beneath them. "You saved me so you yourself can be saved. You did this for yourself. Not for me. _Never for me." Then, Hermione's lips bared the smallest smile. "I don't think you're quite capable of doing anything for anyone other than yourself." _

He was rendered speechless by her words. Was it because they were the truth, or they were lies… he didn't know. But the possibility nagged at him… Could he be just saving her to save his own life, his own soul? He'd never examined his actions, never thought or analyzed before he leap. This time was no different from the others. But her words… what she was suggesting… 

"Come on," he said instead, though this time he did not take any step to take her forcefully with him, and this time his voice was devoid of any emotion. "If you want to live, then come with me. If not, then feel free to stay here." 

"Where are you taking me, anyway?" she asked.

"Somewhere far, somewhere safe." He continued to walk away from her. "Somewhere far away from here."

**Author's Notes: **I'm very sorry for the lack of updates, guys… been pretty busy with school and stuff. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter… ;) 


	4. Hidden

**Abyss**

It seemed like hours, when it reality it had only been minutes, since the last time they said anything to each other. Each step they took was a burden; each breath they took was a sacrifice. The night was dark, foreboding; the air was thick with uncertainty, regret. Both were silent as they walked, and neither one was doing anything to remedy the unfriendly atmosphere around them. 

Draco glanced around him every now and then, his face filled with impassivity that he did not feel he truly possessed. True, his demeanor was calm, collected, and in the depths of his silvery eyes no amount of any emotion can be traced. He was a true master of disguise, this younger Malfoy. From a young, tender age he had learned to hide everything and anything deep within his very soul, that at times when he was growing up he did not know if he could still feel at all, for he believed that all the layers he had effectively cloaked around his heart had successfully prevented him from actually feeling anything_ else_, besides indifference, besides apathy. But this time, he recognized fear; he could see it in the thick mist of the forest, he could hear it humming in his ears, he could taste its bitterness in his mouth. He could _feel fear. It was a shame to a Malfoy to admit that he is indeed afraid… but his consolation, his reprieve? The fear around him wasn't his __alone._

He stole an unobtrusive glance behind him. He could see that Granger was rubbing her hands furiously over her arms in a pathetic search for warmth. There were two bright spots of pink that colored her cheeks, and her little nose was tinged with red. She was obviously cold. But of course she was cold; she was only wearing a nightgown, for crying out loud! True, the only clothe she had on covered her entirely from her neck to her toes, but the cloth was flimsy and ridiculously thin. She was cold. Without any other robes protecting her, she would literally freeze to death. _Good, then, he thought severely, clutching at his robe proudly. __Let her freeze._

How dare she voice that stupid assumption of hers like that? He'd just saved her ass, damn it… she should be grateful that he'd stepped right at the exact moment that Pansy had her wand pointed directly at her! But of course, for _Granger _to be grateful to him, a _Malfoy_… hell would have to freeze over first. Well, the second level of hell, that is, because the first one already froze when he saved her.

_"You need to see for yourself that you can do something to prove that you are not evil. You want redemption, Malfoy. That's why you saved me. That's why you've been tolerating my presence all along."_ He snuck a glance at her again, his eyes stormy and angry_. Idiot girl_, he seethed, his hands curling to fists on his side. _You can't possibly know… you can't possibly understand__ anything about me. You think you know so much… but you know so little. You know so little when it comes to the bitter, harsh facts of life, Granger…_

Draco stopped suddenly, his instincts on the alert. He could hear Granger stop as well, but before she could ask anything, he had already clamped a hand over her mouth, his movements quick and stealthy. He knew he surprised her with his actions. "Shh," he instructed as he glanced at her widened eyes. "I hear something."

He listened intently, and a few more seconds elapsed before Draco finally realized what it was. Without thinking, he dropped his hands on her shoulders and pulled her, then shoved her unceremoniously behind a tree. "Don't make a sound," he whispered frantically. Without any other words, he took his wand out of the confines of his robes and handed it to her.

Granger looked questioningly at his wand before she raised her eyes to him. "What—"

"It's them," he explained. "They're coming for me. Look, we don't have much time… I want you to have this wand. Use it. It's going to lead you to safety. It's going to allow you to hex anyone… except me, of course. But don't use it yet. Not now. They can't know that you're still alive."

"Malfoy—"

"Shh!" he hissed again. He grabbed her hand and placed his wand on her open palm when she still refused to take it from him. Draco squeezed her hand painfully tight before he let her go. "I will find you," he said to her. "My wand will tell me where you are, and as soon as I could, I would come to you. I would—"

"DRACO!"

He looked behind him as he heard a masculine voice shout his name; the voice came from a place not so very far away from where they were. Whoever was looking for them was already frighteningly, dangerously close. Draco then turned towards her again. "Be quiet," he ordered her. "Your life depends on it. Don't make any noises. Don't even _breathe too loudly. Don't move too much. Count up to 300, we'll be gone by then. Only then can you leave." _

She stared at his wand on her hand, and then raised her eyes to meet his again. "You'll come for me?" she asked uncertainly.

Draco stared at her frightened eyes, and tried in his damnedest to soothe her fears away. "I will find you," he repeated with deeper, stronger conviction. "You could bet your self-righteous ass that I'd come for you." 

*

He stepped away from the shadow of the tree just in time to see the silhouette of the intruder coming towards him. Draco immediately began walking away from the tree to meet the other halfway. A few more steps and he now recognized the one who was looking for him. It was one of the Slytherins.

"Draco!" Goyle muttered, as he saw that Malfoy was approaching. He doubled over and rested his palms over his knees. He was panting for breath.

"What is it, Goyle?" Draco asked him, finely, appropriately covering his anxiety with annoyance. "Did you know that you just scared my prey away with all your howling?"

Goyle looked up at him. "P-prey?" he asked, as he still labored to catch his breath. "W-Who?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Some Gryffindor flesh. Never you mind." He tapped his foot impatiently against the forest grounds. "So? What is it, then? What did you come here for?"

The other Slytherin finally straightened himself up. "Your father told me to c-come and get you," he answered. "He said… he said…" Goyle swallowed, seemingly hesitant to continue. "Draco, Pansy… she's dead."

"Dead?" Draco repeated, sounding rightfully surprised. "How?"

"The Killing Curse," Goyle replied in a low tone.

Draco allowed a scowl to darken his features. "Who did it?"

"Your father doesn't know," Goyle said. "At first, he thought it was that Mudblood who did it, but—"

He took a step towards the larger Slytherin. "What do you mean my father thought that Mudblood Granger killed her?" Draco asked in a dangerous tone.

Goyle swallowed again, intimidated by the imposing stance of the younger Malfoy. "She's the only one who has the knowledge," he answered. "But then, you father… Mr. Malfoy said she didn't… the spell did not come from her wand. It came from another's."

"Does my father know whose wand it came from?"

Goyle shook his head.

Draco was immensely relieved by this, but of course, outwardly he looked convincingly outraged. "Too bad," he muttered. "Now I'll just have to kill every Gryffindor I come across just to avenge Pansy's death." He looked at Goyle. "Go on, then. I'd come back to the castle later, I have to find myself someone to blame."

"Your father asks that you come to him immediately," Goyle told him.

He grimaced. "I'd come when I feel I'd come."

"Your father asks you to come to him now," Goyle repeated. "He said I should take you to him."

Draco stared at Goyle. He had no other choice; he had to go. He was sure Goyle would do anything to ensure that he would bring his assignment to 'Mr. Malfoy', and seeing that he had no wand, and his built was considerably less than Goyle's… truly, he had no choice. "Fine," he barked. "Take me to my father."

But before they left, Draco unobtrusively glanced at the tree where Granger was hidden behind, and hoped for the best for them both. 


	5. Separated

Abyss 

Goyle disappeared from his side only when they had reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's quarters. Draco watched as his fellow Slytherin turned on his heel and left him without another word spoken between them. He straightened himself before he stepped into the spiraling staircases, for no longer was the gargoyle protecting the opening; the doorway was free for anyone to enter. 

Soon he came into the Headmaster's room. He was not interested at how it looked; he had been in here before, the time when he was personally told that he would be the Head Boy, to be precise. No, Draco was not interested on how it looked, rather, he was interested on _who _was occupying it that time. It was not Dumbledore, that was for sure.

It was his father.

"Ah, Draco," the older Malfoy muttered in satisfaction, as he looked up from one of the books he'd been perusing. "So glad for you to come."

Draco studied his father with his eyes, their color the same with the ones studying him earlier. "Goyle said you sent him for me," he answered. "He said you _insisted _that I come."

Lucius closed the book he was holding and laid it on the table before him. He rose from Dumbledore's seat with the ease of a king. "Of course I did," he said. "I trust that your friend had already mentioned to you what has happened to dear Miss Parkinson." 

The younger Malfoy cringed at the word _friend_. "He did." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I demand to know who killed her."

"Unfortunately," Lucius said to him, "there is no way of telling who did. All the wands that were confiscated from the students were tested, and not one was proven to be the wand that killed her." His face was filled with solemnity. "I know it must be hard for you, Draco, to hear that she's dead. She would've made a beautiful – and loyal – wife for you…"

This time, Draco cannot help the shiver he felt at the word _wife_. He turned away and pretended to study one of the paintings; the occupant of which was strangely absent. "Yes, Father, it was very… _unfortunate _indeed." He turned to face him again. "However, I cannot help but feel that her death could've been prevented had this whole attack been never made."

His father walked towards him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I understand your anger, Draco," he said lightly, "after all, one of the casualties of this attack happened to be an _intimate _acquaintance of yours. However, I cannot and will not tolerate your questioning about the motives of our Lord. Do you understand me?" 

Draco stared at his father's eyes. He noted the seriousness and the finality of his words. "Yes, Father."

Lucius looked pleased. "Very well." He removed his hand from his son's shoulder, and then turned to walk towards Dumbledore's bookshelf. "You should be interested to know that Potter and his friends had managed to escape," he said blandly, as he busied himself with browsing through the large mass of books before him. 

"Perhaps they did so because the ones they faced were untalented Slytherins," Draco commented dryly. "Had I been the one to face them…" he let his words die on their own, for the meaning behind them was very evident.

"But," his father continued, completely ignoring his comment, "Miss Bulstrode was able to eliminate one of the Weasleys… what was the name of the youngest…?"

"Virginia, I believe," Draco supplemented.

"Oh, yes. That girl in the chamber." Lucius smirked at his son. "Virginia. A nice name, don't you think? It's a pity it belongs to a worthless, penniless Weasley."

"Millicent killed a Weasel?" Draco asked in genuine surprise. "I never knew she had it in her. Too bad she wasn't able to kill the older one as well."

"You mean Potter's friend?" Lucius asked. When Draco nodded, he continued. "Yes, well. It was unfortunate that he was one of the few who were able to escape. It might be an opportunity for you, though. When your paths cross again, perhaps _you _can finish the job of ridding the world of another Weasley."

"Perhaps." The younger Malfoy looked at his father, the curiosity inside him burning him up. "Father," he began, "Goyle told me something about… about that Mudblood. Do you really think she killed Pansy?"

The older Malfoy shook his head. "No, I do not," he answered. "Her wand was among those confiscated from the other students, but her body was not among those who died. But she doesn't matter. What is important is that we will never stop until the killer is found, and severely punished. Rest assured, my son, that Miss Parkinson will be avenged." Lucius looked at Draco's empty hands. "Where's your wand?"

Draco glanced at his hands before he answered. "I lost it," he said. "I was chasing some Gryffindor in the woods, and just as I was to close in on her… Goyle suddenly came hollering my name. I was distracted, and that gave the Gryffindor the chance to disarm me." He hung his head, as if shamed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father."

"Now, now, Draco," he said as he came towards his son. "It is unfortunate, but we cannot prevent that. Your wand is replaceable, do not fret much about it." Lucius tapped him sharply on the shoulder. "Come. We must go back to the house and rest."

The two Malfoys went out of Dumbledore's office. Lucius needed to talk to some of the other Death Eaters, and that gave Draco an opportunity to look out the window. To his disbelief, he saw a large grave being dug by several men, and when it was wide enough the dumping of the dead bodies began. His eyes still sharp despite the dark of the night, he managed to recognize some of the corpses as those that belong to the different Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students that once lived and studied in this school. Only the Slytherin house seemed to be devoid of any casualty, for he cannot see anyone that came from his house in the pile of dead bodies outside…

A hand was placed again on his shoulder, and when Draco looked up he saw the face of his Head of House grimly looking at the mass grave. "Sir," he acknowledged, before he asked, "was there any other Slytherin that was killed tonight? Aside from Pansy?"

Severus Snape glanced at him, his beady eyes darker and fiercer than ever before. "No," he answered. "Our house was _fortunately _spared."

And then he left without another word.

*

Hermione clutched at the wand she held; the wood giving her some sense of comfort. True to her unspoken promise, she counted up to three hundred before she dared to move. The silence in the woods was very threatening to her; she cannot help the paranoiac feeling she got from having to hear nothing but the hum of her blood in her ears. Her heart was tumbling wildly in her chest, and she kept looking around her in fear that something might come out of the shadows to attack her. But the wand in her hands was a source of security; despite giving her limited powers, at least the wand was a way to protect herself.

She began to murmur incantations as she moved. Simple spells, average spells, difficult and advanced spells tumbled out of her lips, and the recitations was a way for her to calm herself down. When she was too busy thinking, she could ignore the fear, she realized. And so, she entertained all kinds of thoughts, all types that would distract her from feeling helpless and afraid, feelings that were definitely foreign to her.

When the light of the moon failed to guide her way, she whispered a simple "_Lumos_," and the light that emanated from Draco's wand became her source of light. With agility she never knew she had, she made her way across the forest and was now on a clearing.

The question on her mind, then, was, _what now?_

"_Use that wand_." Draco's words came back to her. "_It's going to lead you to safety_."  

Hermione looked at the wand she held. "How?" she whispered to herself. "How is this going to lead me to safety?"

She looked around her, and knew that she was in a completely unfamiliar and foreign ground. She had never, in her seven years in Hogwarts, ventured farther than the Forbidden Forest. Now she was _beyond _the forbidden Forest. "Merlin," she asked, "what am I going to do?"

After a few more minutes, inspiration struck her. She closed her eyes, and said, "Take me to the safest place. _Please_." Hermione didn't know if this would work, but she had to try _something_!  

There was the flutter of movement around her, as if a gust of wind swiftly swept past her. As the fluttering stopped, she dared to open her eyes…

… and found herself inside a room.

"It's about time you got in here," she heard Draco Malfoy drawl. 

**Author's Notes: **I'm very song this chapter took too long. Anyways, I hope my portrayal of Lucius Malfoy is acceptable. I am a firm believer that he and Draco are not as estranged as they are portrayed to be. Thank you for reading, and please review! :)

  
  



	6. Tricks and Threats

**Abyss**

Hermione looked at the source of the voice, confusion etched on her face. "Where… where the hell am I?" 

Draco stood up from the chair he was sitting on and placed the book he was reading on the table. He had been waiting for her to appear for the past thirty minutes; after Apparating from Hogwarts, he went straight to his room to wait for her there. After the first five minutes of waiting silently and impatiently, he busied himself by reading. His nerves kept him from getting past the first paragraph, for he continued to read and reread it until she appeared. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked her. "You're in my room." He gestured around him. "Welcome to the Malfoy Manor." 

She allowed her gaze to sweep around his room, before she settled her eyes on him again. "Your room," she said disbelievingly. "I'm in your room." 

He nodded. "Yes, unfortunately, you are." 

Hermione clutched at the wand she held, as panic began to settle in her heart. She took a deep, calming breath, before she muttered, "Bastard." 

Draco raised a brow in return. "What did you say?" 

"You heard me!" She pointed the wand at him. "You tricked me, you selfish, arrogant git!" 

He rolled his eyes at her actions. "Granger, you are an idiot, do you know that? How many times do I have to tell you that you can't curse me with my—" 

"Oh yes, I know I can't _curse_ you, Malfoy. However, that doesn't prevent me from hurting you through _other_ ways, does it?" Hermione then pointed at his book, and sent it flying towards him. 

Draco managed to roll out of harm's way as the book whizzed past him harmlessly. It hit the wall hard and fell onto the floor with a thud. He looked at it, before he turned towards her. "You IDIOT!" he yelled, his face purplish with anger, before he closed his eyes in an effort to rein in his rage. 

"Yes, I really am," Hermione agreed amicably. She watched him as he opened his eyes to look at her. "I'm really an idiot to trust you, Malfoy! You told me this wand will lead me to safety, and I was foolish enough to believe you!" She kept her wand pointed at him. "You manipulating piece of—" 

She wasn't able to finish her sentence because at that moment, he attacked her. Draco used his speed to his advantage, and jumped at her until she fell on her back on the floor with him on top of her. He caught her hands with his and pushed them until they were pinned just above her head, then leaned in very close to her face until they were looking at each other's eyes. "Now, you listen to me, Mudblood," he spat. "What I told you was the truth, you stupid girl. That wand _did _lead you to safety. It led you to _me_, didn't it?" 

Hermione's eyes blazed with ire. "It led me to your house, which for all I know is the home of Death Eaters," she retorted. "How on earth can you tell me that I am safe _here_ when the very same ones who attacked the school are also in the same place?!" 

Draco slowly lifted his face away from hers, but kept his hold firmly on her wrists. "They're not here at the moment," he said. 

"Oh, so are you saying that I can relax_ at the moment? _Well thank you very much, Malfoy, _now_ I can totally relax!" She wriggled from underneath him. "Get off me! I can't breathe!" 

He maneuvered so that one hand was holding her wrists, and then allowed the other to travel slowly towards her neck. He held her there, too, as he stared at her widened eyes. "Granger," he said, his voice dangerously low, "I'll say this to you only once. Try and hurt me again, and I guarantee that I'll be the one to hand you over to the Death Eaters. They know just what to do with you. Do we understand each other?" 

She lifted her chin and said nothing. 

Draco gritted his teeth, and then applied pressure on both her wrists and neck. "Do we?" 

Hermione grimaced in response, before she hissed reluctantly, "Yes!" 

He smiled. "Good." He removed his hand from her neck, and then grabbed his wand from her hands before he moved off of her. He watched her as she scuttled away from him. "You might want to refrain from making any loud sounds. My father and the others may be away, but that doesn't mean there aren't be others who might hear you." 

She gingerly touched and rubbed at her wrists and neck. "Where are they?" 

Draco deposited his wand at the table before he went towards the book that Hermione threw at him. "Buying me a new wand," he responded. "I told him I lost the one I gave to you." 

"Why am I here?" she asked, finally. 

"Despite your doubts, I can honestly say that you are safest here, Granger," Draco told her as he picked up his book. He looked at her. "And because no one will try and look for you in my house." 

She still looked doubtful. "And your parents? What will keep them from finding me here, in your room?" 

Draco glanced at his book before he showed the title to her. "That's why I've been rereading this." 

Hermione looked at the book. "That's—" She slowly stood up and walked towards him. "That's—" 

"Transfiguration spells," he said to her. "Advanced." 

She grabbed the book from him and looked at its contents. "It's not just advanced, this book… the spells in it… it's… it's dark magic," she muttered, almost to herself. Then, she looked up at him. "Do you know how to use these?" 

He smirked satisfactorily. "Of course I do. I study dark magic more than I do our subjects at Hogwarts. I am _required_ to." 

"When do you study this? I don't recall that any dark magic books are permitted inside the library!" 

"What do you think I do during Christmas vacations? Make pretty snow angels?" 

Hermione glared at him. "You're going to transfigure me?" 

Draco shrugged. "When the situation calls for it." 

"So, what then?" she asked. "I'm going to be locked up in your room and transfigured _when the situation calls for it_? You didn't really think this one through, didn't you, Malfoy? When you saved me, you really didn't know what predicament you were placing yourself in." 

He returned her glare, before he turned away from her without saying anything in response. Draco then disappeared behind one of the doors in the room. 

Hermione looked down on the book she held, and then touched the title. The words began to blur as tears formed in her eyes. "I don't know which is worse," she whispered. "Being locked up in here, or running for my life outside." She walked towards one of the huge windows that lined up on the side of the room. She looked out, and saw nothing but the darkness of the night. She heard the door open again, and she rubbed her eyes dry with the sleeves of her nightgown. She turned towards him when he spoke. 

"Here," Draco muttered as he handed her a robe. It was a deep red robe, with white floral prints. Clearly, it was meant to be used by a woman. "Clean yourself up." 

She accepted the clothes with her brows raised. "Whose is this?" she asked curiously. 

He looked passive as he answered, "Pansy's." Draco then pointed at the doors. "That's the bathroom, and there's the door to the halls. DON'T ever make the mistake of stepping outside this room, do you hear me? We can't risk the others finding out that I'm hiding you here." He walked towards the door. "I'm going to get us something to eat. When I get back I expect that you'll already out of the bathroom." Then, without waiting for any word from her, he left the room. 

Hermione hugged the robe and the book to her chest as she slowly made her way towards the bathroom. As she stripped herself off of her clothing and stepped into the shower, she thought of the events that occurred that night. And as the water fell from the showerhead, so did the tears from her eyes. "Merlin," she whispered with a shuddering breath, "I wish he'd never come to save me." 


	7. House Elf Issues

Abyss 

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed as she stared at herself in the mirror. The robe that Malfoy gave her fitted her perfectly, which wasn't surprising at all since she and Pansy were about the same built. And _that_ was exactly what was ridiculous, for the robe was built to reveal more of Pansy's body than conceal it. As a result, it showed an awful lot of _her_ cleavage and leg; an awful lot of skin that she normally would want hidden rather than exposed. Hermione glanced at her nightgown, the one that was hanging on one side of the bathroom, and frowned. "I shouldn't have washed it," she said wistfully. She looked at the mirror again. "I should have checked this robe first before even thinking of washing my gown! Talk about obscene! This is totally ridiculous! I will _never_ wear this with Malfoy looking!"

Then, an idea came to her. _Are you a witch or not?  _"Of course!" she said, as she resisted the urge to smack herself. "I could just use Malfoy's wand to dry my nightgown." Hermione went to the door and was about to open it when she heard sounds coming from the other side. She pressed her ear firmly on the door, and cursed when she heard Malfoy's voice. "So much for his not looking," she muttered under her breath. Hermione inhaled deeply, before she gathered her wits and opened the door.

Her eyes widened when the wonderful aroma of food greeted her senses. But what surprised her more was what greeted her sight. She saw that Malfoy brought along with him a bedraggled house elf, and that the house elf was the one who was carrying the food. "Malfoy—" she began uncertainly.

He turned around, and she did not miss the way his eyes seemed to appraise her body, as he looked at her from head to toe. She began to cross her arms protectively in front of her chest when he spoke. "Finally, you've decided to grace us with your presence." Malfoy glared at her as he, too, crossed his arms. "I thought I told you that I want to see you out of there by the time I got in?"

Hermione glared right back at him. "I had to wash my clothes, too, after I took a bath. After all, I wouldn't want to wear _this _all the time."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You should've given your nightgown to me so that I could get the house elves to wash it. Or wait— no, you were right not to do that. We better burn the damn thing."

"We will not!" she said loudly. She bit her lip, before she continued in a lower voice, "That is the only possession I have left. I will not let anyone, most especially _you_, touch it!"

"Fine." Malfoy then gestured at the food that was already arranged at their table. "Eat. You must be starving."

Her stomach growled in agreement, but before she satisfied her urge to satisfy her stomach, she had to ask him something. "I thought…" Hermione glanced at the house elf, before she returned her eyes on him. "I thought you said nobody's supposed to know I'm here?"

Malfoy took a seat at one of the chairs. He gestured lazily at the elf. "Becky's mine," he stated simply. "She will do everything I tell her to. Isn't that right, Becky?"

The house elf vigorously nodded. "Yes! Becky will do everything Master Draco asks her to. It will be a pleasure for Becky to do what Master Draco wants!"

"You see?" he said to Hermione. Then, he turned to Becky again. "Ah, Becky. I want you to keep her being in here a secret, do you hear? I don't want anyone else to know that I'm keeping her in my room. If anyone discovers this… you know what I'm to do to you."

Becky covered her ears protectively. "Yes, Master Draco! Becky is to do what Master Draco wants. Becky will not tell anyone about Master Draco's friend. Becky does not want her ears to burn again!"

Malfoy looked very pleased. "Good," he said. "Very good."

Hermione was completely disgusted. "That's absolutely barbaric!" she exploded. "Totally inhuman of you, Malfoy! To treat her like… like some common _thing_ when she is obviously anything but!"

He yawned at her display of temper. "First off, I don't want to hear more of your speeches about house elf rights. Second, this house elf here may not be a thing, but she was bought to do services for me. It is entirely my right, as a customer, to give her punishment when I deem her work to be completely unsatisfactory. Lastly, you have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do. I am her master, and I can do anything I want to her. Now," He pointed at the food on the table, "are you going to eat this food or not? I'd be delighted to tell Becky here to remove all of these if you're just going to stand there."

How she would love to wipe that triumphant smirk off his face! She slowly walked towards the table, her steps deliberately small so as to not bare too much of her leg. She saw him smirk at her actions, as if he knew what exactly it was that she was doing. Hermione then carefully sat on the chair opposite his. She noted that the food was arranged on one huge platter at the center, and that there were two empty plates, one for her and another for Malfoy. She took a big bun from the platter, and then bit into it. She had never tasted anything as delicious, for the bread surely tasted like heaven. "This is good," she said, after she swallowed. She gestured at his plate. "Have you eaten already?"

"Of course," Malfoy drawled. "I ate downstairs."

Hermione looked at the house elf. "What about—"

"Don't even think it, Granger," he told her threateningly. "I know all about your stupid house elf movement, and I will not have you doing your inane activities inside my house. Do you understand?"

"Fine." She pushed her plate away, and shot him a contemptuous look. "Take this away. I'm not hungry anymore."

"Are you sure?" he asked her. 

"Positive," she replied. "I just had my fill of your insults, thanks."

Malfoy smirked at her again. "Becky," he called.

The house elf needed not to be told more. She approached the table, took the plates, stacked them in her hands, and then disappeared.

"Thanks for the wonderful dinner, Malfoy. Truly, you are a charming host." Hermione then rose from her seat. "Where's your wand?" she asked him.

"What do you need it for?"

"I have to dry my nightgown."

"And I ask, yet again, what do you need it for?"

She gestured at her robe. "I can't wear this! This robe is for… for… for women like Parkinson whose only hobby is pleasuring you! I can't wear this, I look totally ridiculous!" 

"Hmm." Malfoy looked at her again, and she fought the urge to blush under his scrutiny. "You're right, you do look ridiculous. Only _women_ should be allowed to wear that, never the likes of _you_."

"Why, thank you, Draco Malfoy for that completely uplifting statement," she told him with heavy sarcasm. "Now, unless you have another robe of Pansy's to lend me, I'll ask you again: where's your wand?"

"It's already hidden."

She gaped at him. "What?"

Malfoy raised his brow at her. "Are you daft, Granger? Oh, wait. Stupid question." He grinned tauntingly at her. "My wand's already hidden. Becky arranged this room first before she arranged your food. It's… somewhere around here."

"And what if you need it, then?"

"I'll ask Becky to get it for me." He looked tired as he answered this. "Do you want me to call her for you, Granger? I could, but since it's already past midnight, it'd be _inhuman_ of me to ask her to get it _now_, would it? Not to mention totally hypocritical of you. I mean, all those campaigns and—"

Hermione found it increasingly difficult to keep her temper in check. "Fine," she spat. She sank on the chair again, and then yanked the end of her robe to cover her exposed leg. "Don't look at me!" she shrieked. 

"As if I'll be interested in you, Granger," he jeered. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep around here." Malfoy stood up from his chair and headed straight towards the bathroom before she could say anything more.

Hermione sighed, and then busied herself by looking around the room. It had a huge bed at the center, draped completely with mahogany coverings. It had about ten pillows, a comforter, and a quilted blanket on top of it. She also found a long sofa at the bed's side, its color complementary to the bed. "I suppose that's where I'll be sleeping," she muttered to herself. She stood up, walked towards the bed, took three pillows and the blanket, and carried them over to her makeshift bed. She was spreading the blanket when she heard him speak. "What do you think you're doing?"

She turned to look at him, and then quickly looked away. "Before I answer that, at least have the decency to put a robe on, Malfoy!"

She heard him chuckle lightly. "Don't be such a prude, Granger. As I've already established a thousand times, this is my house, therefore, I am free to _not_ wear whatever it is I do _not_ feel like wearing. Now, I'll ask you again: what do you think you're doing?"

"Making myself comfortable." 

"With my beddings?"

This time, when Hermione looked at him she did not break her stare. "Well, where else am I to find what I need? It's not like you're going to offer to take the sofa."

"Of course not," Malfoy scoffed. "I'm perfectly comfortable in my own bed, thank you very much."

"I guessed just as much." She climbed onto the sofa, and laid there, her face purposely turned away from him. She pulled the blanket all the way to her chin. "Goodnight, Malfoy. Oh, and before I forget, do make sure to lock the door, would you? I don't think your parents are going to approve if they found out you're having a slumber party in your room."

Malfoy cursed quite loudly, before she heard the rustle of the beddings under his weight. Soon, the lights were out and they were both encased in total darkness.

Hermione did not sleep well that night. In fact, she didn't sleep at all.   
  


**Author's Notes: **Thank you very much to those who review! It means a lot to me… :) Anyways, the next update would probably be on the 30th, but I'll promise to try and update much earlier than that. Thank you!...


	8. Hogwarts, A History

Abyss 

When Draco reluctantly opened his eyes, he found out, to his utter dismay, that the thick dark drapes that used to cover the entirety of his windows were now pulled back. This allowed lots and lots of happy sunshine to frolic inside his room, and all that light was really annoying him, especially because it hadn't been that long since he'd fallen asleep. "Who in hell—" he muttered as he straightened up. His first thought was that it was that useless house elf of his again, but as his focus became clearer and sharper, he found out that it was _Granger _who'd done it. As it was, she had pulled one of the chairs nearer to the open window, and was now reading by it. "Did you pull the drapes?" he asked, just to be sure.

"No," came her distracted voice, "you did. Don't you remember?"

Draco noted that, along with the preoccupied tone, there was a sarcastic undertone of hers that he found utterly irritating, especially at _this_ time of day. He stood up, and walked right to the window to pull the drapes over it again. "Don't you ever think? What if someone sees you?"

"Well," she said as she turned a page from her book, "that someone would have to be _flying_ on a broomstick to be able to, considering your room is on the fourth floor."

He was about to ask how she knew that, when she _finally _looked up at him and said, "I had time to take a little peek." Granger then returned to reading.

Draco glanced at the grounds below, and noted that at that time there were already several house elves that were busy tending the garden. "Are you completely sure nobody saw you?" he persisted. 

"Of course," she said absently, apparently fully absorbed in reading once again.

Draco had had enough. It was one thing to be stupid enough to risk getting exposed over something as silly as pulling the drapes; it was quite another to be rude enough to continue ignoring him when he was speaking. He marched over to her and snatched the book out of her hands, and completely disregarded her shriek of protest. "Pay attention to _me_ when I'm talking to you," he told her. "I do believe you know a little thing called courtesy?"

"Yes, I do. That's why I'm not prancing around here half-naked." Granger tried to snatch the book back from his hands, but he held it up over his head. And considering her height reached only his shoulders… "Give it here, you prat. I was reading that!"

He chose to ignore the jibe, and instead paid attention to the book. Draco sent her an accusing glance. "You've been reading _my _book without my _permission_." 

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Well what did you want me to do, listen to you as you talk in your sleep? Besides—" She deliberately continued to talk and did not bother to listen to his protests, "—I was curious. If you're going to transfigure me, the least I should do is know what risks are involved." 

"There are _no_ risks." Draco walked towards his desk, pulled open a drawer, and shoved the book inside. He turned to look at her haughtily. "Haven't I told you that I've been studying advanced transfiguration since before I went to Hogwarts? And, besides, we're talking about _me,_and _my_ abilities as well. I know a lot of things that I bet even _McGonagall_ didn't know. So, there's really no need for your questions, or your doubts."        

Granger continued to glare defiantly at him, with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm sorry, but _I'm_ the one to be subjected to your curse, Malfoy. Therefore, I _am_ entitled to question and doubt _you, _because only Merlin knows what type of danger you're placing me in with your spells!" 

He gave a slight shake of his head. _We aren't going anywhere… _Draco arched a brow as he stared at her, and that was when he noticed something different about her. "You've changed your clothes." It really won't hurt if she'd change the topic as well.

Lucky for him, she bought it. Granger looked down on herself, and then back at him. "Pansy's robe was not the most comfortable in the world. Besides, did you expect me to continue wearing something that I shouldn't be _allowed_ to wear, as you so eloquently noted yesterday?"

Draco waved that comment off with a luxurious stretch. He noticed that she deliberately looked away, and instead paid attention to his bed. "Prude," he muttered under his breath.

Granger glanced at him, and her eyes were definitely flashing; a definite indication that she heard him perfectly. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he quickly said. Draco then walked towards the bathroom. "I'm going to have my breakfast downstairs," he spoke as he fetched his own robe and placed it on. "I'm going to send Becky here for yours." When he came back to the bedroom, he found out that she was already browsing through his bookshelf, undoubtedly looking for something else to read. As he was opening the door that led to the hallway, he heard her speak:

"Well, at least you have the latest edition of _Hogwarts, A History_."

*

"Becky," he said to his house elf as he passed by her. "You know what to do."

Becky nodded vigorously before she stopped wiping the countertop and went straight towards the kitchen. 

Draco looked on as the house elf disappeared behind the kitchen door. Then, he walked towards the dining room. He pushed the doors open, and found out that his parents were already eating along with a guest he was surprised to find there. "Good morning, Father, Mother." His parents turned to acknowledge him with a nod, and when the guest turned as well, Draco added, "Good morning, Professor Snape." 

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," Snape muttered.

"Good morning, Draco." His father motioned to the empty chair beside his mother's. "Come and join us."

Draco nodded, and quickly assumed his place on the dining table. 

"As I was saying," his father said to Snape, "it was such a shame that the old fool hasn't been found yet. The attack on Hogwarts was unexpected, and still he and some of the others managed to escape! I'm beginning to think we might have a traitor among the group."

"Perhaps. That is a possibility we cannot ignore." Snape said. He quickly glanced at Draco before he continued. "Lucius, about your plans to take over Hogwarts… they haven't changed, have they?"

"Changed?" Lucius said, almost disbelievingly. "Why would they? Now that the position of Headmaster has been vacated, as it should have been years ago, it is only appropriate that _I_ fill it. After all, such a task has been already delegated to me by the Dark Lord." He drank from his cup, before he continued. "Now, the most fervent wish of Salazar Slytherin will come to pass as we change some of the rules, starting, of course, with us becoming more selective with our students."   
"Indeed." Snape lifted his goblet and drank from it. 

"Narcissa," Lucius said as he turned to his wife, "I'm afraid you would have to cancel your trip to Knockturn Alley this morning. The Dark Lord requests our audience promptly."

"Of course," Narcissa said. "Oh, that reminds me." She snapped her fingers, and another house elf entered, and in its grimy hands it held a wand. "Draco, here, have this." Narcissa took the wand from the house elf and handed it to him. "I hope you'd make an effort to not lose this one this time." There was a reprimanding tone in her voice that no one can miss.

"Thank you, Mother." Draco took it and tucked it inside his robe.

"It was rather fortunate that your mother and I arrived at Vandel's shop at the time we did," Lucius informed him. Vandel was the name of the wand shop located at Knockturn Alley. "They had just the duplicate of your original wand."

Draco nodded. "Thank you, Father."

"Severus," Lucius then redirected his attention to the professor. "About that Transfiguration professor…"

Draco listened to all these with half an ear; in fact, he was more concerned with how his breakfast tasted more than anything else. 

But he cannot dismiss the way Snape had been sending him glances everyone now and then, however discreet these looks were. It was almost as if the professor was just _dying_ to tell him something. As he was wiping his mouth with his napkin, he realized that his hunch was true when he heard Snape tell his father, "Lucius, may I speak with your son for a moment?"

"Certainly. You may use the den, if you'd like." 

"Thank you." Snape then stood up. "Mr. Malfoy," he muttered, as he walked towards the den. 

Draco understood the silent message that Snape sent him. He politely nodded to his parents, his way of excusing himself, before he followed his professor. 

As they entered the den, Draco found out that he didn't have to waste any more time in thinking what Snape could possibly want with him. The moment the doors were closed behind them, Snape immediately rounded on him, his beady eyes dark with intent. "Mr. Malfoy," he said again in that oily voice of his, "do not be mistaken to think, even for a moment, that you are alone in your knowledge of what is going on in this house."

"I don't think I know what you mean, Professor."

"Oh, but you do," Snape told him. He then proceeded to sit on a chair, with his elbows propped up on the arms and his hands clasped together under his chin. Snape looked up at Draco with eyes that were glinting dangerously. "I truly don't believe a review of what happened at Hogwarts is necessary, don't you agree?"

He answered the question with a mere raise of his brow, and an arrogant lift of his chin. "Not to be rude or anything, Professor Snape, but would you mind telling me exactly what it is that you want? All this talk of nonsense—"

Snape pursed his lips. "Fine, then." He drew his wand out, and whispered, "_Silencio_," before he tucked it back into his robe. "Miss Parkinson died yesterday," he began. "And _you_ killed her."

"Now you _are_ talking nonsense," Draco scoffed.   
The professor stood up and placed a not-so-gentle hand on Draco's shoulder. "Do not fool around me, _boy_," he whispered sinisterly. "I saw what you did to her. It is only your luck that I haven't spoken to anyone about that incident." Snape gave him a hard shake. "You are aware of what they do to those who dare cross the Dark Lord, aren't you? And killing a powerful potential Death Eater like Miss Parkinson…it is a sin punishable with a fate far worse than a dementor's kiss." 

Draco briefly glanced at the hand on his shoulder, before he looked straight at his professor's eyes. "_If_ you did see me kill Pansy, then you would've also seen the reason why I did."

Snape removed his hand as he admitted, "A reason that confounds me, yes." 

"There's nothing to be confounded about," Draco told him dryly. "I took a life, and I saved one. I believe that makes it even."

"And I believe you are making the worst mistake of your life, you stupid boy." Snape looked at him hard. "This is a great risk you are taking, Mr. Malfoy. Clearly, you are up to something bigger, to bring on a danger like this to yourself. Exposure is a very _real_ possibility, especially because you brought her _here_, of all the places."

"I don't know how on earth you could've known that, but I assure you that I am _not_ up to something," Draco vehemently denied. "I would not—"

The words died on his lips when he heard a noise coming from outside the room. Snape glanced at the door, and then back at him. "Let us hope," he said as he took out his wand again, "that there is truth in your words, Draco, for Ms. Granger's sake." He then muttered the countercurse. 

It was at the exact moment Snape had already hidden his wand that Lucius opened the door. "Professor Snape," he called. "Perhaps you would care for some vintage wine?"

"I'd be delighted." Snape then gave Draco one last brief, meaningful glance before he followed Lucius back into the dining room. 

*   

Draco slammed the door behind him so hard that it caused Becky to jump up and Granger to wince. It was unquestionably clear that he was in a foul mood. "Go," he barked to the house elf.

Becky bowed low before she snapped her fingers and immediately disappeared.

"What's the matter?" Granger asked as she lowered the cup of tea she was sipping from. She rose from her seat to face him. "Ate something bad at breakfast?"

"Snape."

She raised an eyebrow. "You ate _Snape_?"

Draco looked at her, ready to call her a thousand different words synonymous to idiotic, but caught himself as he noticed the slight smile on her face. Clearly she was just trying to lighten the mood, but it only served to worsen his already shaken nerves. "Snape _knows_."

"He knows…?" Granger muttered in confusion, until _finally_ she had it figured out on her own. "He knows… about…"

"Everything." Draco sank on the chair she vacated. "He goddamned knows about everything." 

She swallowed, obviously trying to take it all in a cool, collected manner. Obviously, it wasn't working. "How?" she asked, a slight shake evident in her voice.

"He saw me." He raked his hand through his hair in a blatant display of frustration. "He saw what I did to Pansy."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Are _we_ in trouble?"

"If he tells anyone," Draco answered. "And, knowing him, how unpredictable that bastard is… I can't say if he's going to, or not."  

Granger cradled her head in her hands in distress. "This is bad," she moaned.

"And it's about to get worse."

Before she could ask what he meant, Draco took out his wand and pointed it at her. "_Iva__ Libros!" _She instantly transfigured into a book, and surprise, surprise, she turned out to be the double of his first edition of _Hogwarts, A History_. He grabbed the book and assumed the look of casually perusing through its pages when the door opened, and at the doorway stood his mother. "Mother?" he asked. "Do you need anything from me?"

Narcissa shook her head, and said, " I just wanted to let you know that Professor Snape left."

"Already?" Draco opted for a tone evident of his disappointment. "It's a pity I wasn't able to bid him goodbye."

At this moment, Narcissa walked into his room. "Draco," she began gently. "Is there something you should tell me?"

He looked very innocent as he answered. "Why, none at all, Mother." A beat, and then, "What made you ask?"

"Nothing," his mother was quick to say. Narcissa then headed towards the door. "Oh, and Draco," she said as she turned towards him again, "your father and I will be gone for about a week. There are some… _matters_ that we need to attend to, I'm sure you understand. And I am also sure that you can manage well on your own."

_I always do. _"Of course, Mother," he said. "I wish you luck on your trip."

"Thank you."

He waited for at least five minutes after his mother left before he took out his wand again. "Too bad you can't keep as quiet as your book-ish self," he muttered. Draco then placed the book on the floor. "_Finite Incantatem_."

When the book transfigured into Granger again, Draco found out, to his utter disbelief, that she was unconscious.

Upon closer inspection, he found out, to his utter horror, that she wasn't even breathing at all.

**Author's Notes: **I'm really sorry for the delay… things just got out of hand last Thursday. Anyways, I'm really sorry for leaving you with a cliffy (oh, wait… no I'm not sorry… *cheeky grin*) But I swear I'll make it up to you, okay? Thank you guys for the outstanding reviews… keep 'em coming!

Oh, look… the chapter is longer this time! A major feat, hooray! 


	9. Slapped!

Abyss 

Fear immediately clouded his mind; his thoughts were filled with images of her death, in his hands, by his own wand. "Damn it," Draco said as he pressed the back of his palm to her mouth. Truly enough, frighteningly enough, his suspicion was confirmed when he felt that no amount of air were coming from it. He grabbed her hand and felt for the vein on her wrist; there he found a very faint but a relatively stable pulse. Draco wasted not any more time; he quickly covered her mouth with his own and breathed into it, his intention was to give her air to fill her lungs. He watched as her chest rose and fell, but it never did this on its own, without his assistance. He breathed into her again, and this Draco repeated for at least five more times. When, after all he did, Granger still refused to wake, he lifted his hand and slapped her hard; all his frustration, anxiety and guilt merged into that one, brutal act. "Wake the hell UP!"

Only after that did Granger open her eyes and started gulping in large amounts of air. Her mouth was opening and closing like that of a fish; like she was trying to eat air instead of breathing it. She struggled to sit, and breathed deeper, louder; already her cheeks were starting to color again. 

The relief Draco felt on seeing her alive, _breathing_, was immense. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and turned her to face him. "Granger," he said. "Are you—"

His words were halted when she removed his hand from her shoulder quite quickly and slapped him. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to stun. "What—"

He was stopped again when she slapped him a second time, this time on the other cheek. And this time, that second slap stung, almost a reminiscent of the one he gave her earlier. "How dare—"

"Those aren't enough." Her voice sounded almost rusty to his ears. Granger looked at him, and despite the fierceness of her eyes he noticed that there were tears in them. "You tricked me. Again. You said there were no risks, and once again I proved to be too gullible for my own safety by trusting you!"

"I didn't trick you," Draco claimed. "It was an accident!"

"One that very nearly ended my life!" Granger stood, and he can't help but notice that she was trembling terribly. Her voice still had that distinct roughness in it, as though she had been choked. "If you haven't noticed, then let me tell you: I wasn't breathing for who knows how long—"

"Oh, I've noticed all right. Who do you think revived you?" 

"And then you had the nerve to SLAP me! I knew you were a git, but I never knew _you_ were _that_ type of—"

"It was the only thing I could think of! What would you rather me to do, throw a glass of water at you?" When she glared down at him, Draco sighed and decided to stand up. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I never meant for the spell to end up that way—"

"You've never transfigured a person before, haven't you?" 

There was an accusing tone in her voice that he simply cannot dismiss. But Draco thought it wise to admit the truth than tell her otherwise. "No. I've only practiced on things. Never on people." He really didn't think telling her that he also practiced on house elves would help. Draco peered closer at her; she still had that paleness that he found a bit worrisome. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She breathed deeply before she answered, "Aside from the fact that I nearly died for the second time in two days, I'm fine."

"Would you like to lie down for a while?" he suggested. 

His voice had a noticeably subdued tone to it, and that was probably the reason why she was looking at him oddly. Granger nodded, before she made her way towards the sofa. 

"No… no." When she glanced at him, Draco gestured to the furniture beside the sofa. "Take the bed." At the surprised expression on her face, he continued, "Go on. It's, um… it's more comfortable than the sofa."

"I'd be the judge of that." Granger moved towards the bed and tentatively sat on the corner. She threw a brief look at him, as though she was telling him that this was _his_ idea, before she finally lifted her feet off of the carpet and laid on the center of the bed. 

"Do you want anything? Some tea, or pumpkin juice, or—"

"Stop it. Your hospitality is making me feel uncomfortable. I'm not used to it."

"Well," Draco muttered as he walked to stand beside his bed, "the least you can get from me after having a near-fatal accident is my hospitality."

"Now I'm pretty sure _that's_ just your guilt talking," she scoffed.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I _do _know how to be kind, you know. It usually manifests itself—"

"After you very nearly kill someone?" Granger smirked at him.  "Maybe I should get almost killed more often to force you to be kinder to me."

"I can guarantee that I'll kill you myself first before another one like that happens."

This time, a small smile appeared on her face. "Whatever happened to the one who was trying to make me comfortable only moments ago? You seem to be back to your usual, nasty self."

Draco shrugged carelessly, but this time a smile was also evident on his face. "He got over his guilt."

"Huh," Granger muttered. "Figures that you'll make him disappear before I even got the chance to exploit his… kindness."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Is this a hallucination, or are we actually having a civil conversation?"

She shook her head. "There's really nothing quite like a near-death experience to make people bond."   

"So we're… _bonding_?"

"No. It was a figure of speech."  
"Hmm."

"Hmm." With her hand, Granger touched the mahogany quilt that covered the bed. "You're right."

"About…?"

"Your bed being more comfortable than the sofa." She raised her eyes at him. "But I guess _you_ won't know that, since I assume you've never slept on the sofa before."

"You assume correctly." Draco then walked away from the bed. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" 

Granger shook her head again. 

"Then you should rest. I'd just be down at the library." 

He was opening the door when she spoke, "Malfoy?" He turned towards her, one hand poised over the doorknob.

She looked almost hesitant to speak, but she did as she fidgeted with the blanket that now covered half her body. "Thank you… for saving me. Again. Though of course, this time it was your fault why I was in danger in the first place—"

"This is your way of thanking me?" Draco muttered in disdain. "I thought you know how to properly express your gratitude? I seem to remember you telling me so last night." 

"Fine, then." Granger disappeared under his blankets. "Thank you. Now get the hell out."

Draco did a mock half-bow. "As you wish, Milady."

*  

When Hermione awoke later that afternoon, she found out that Malfoy was busy reading through some of the materials that she assumed he'd taken from his trip to the library.  "What time is it?"

"A little past two in the afternoon."

 "How long was I asleep?"

He glanced at her before he returned to his books. "Three hours. Maybe four. I wasn't keeping count." 

Hermione lifted the blankets off her body and dragged her feet to the side. She stood up, and walked towards his place. She saw that, beside him, was a platter filled with bread, cheese, and fruits.  Before she spoke, he beat her to it. "I've brought you your lunch."

"Thank you." She on the chair opposite his and grabbed the bread similar to the one she ate the night before. After she swallowed, she said, "Have you eaten already?"

He nodded.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. You eat downstairs."

"Actually," Malfoy licked a finger and used it to turn a page, "I ate here. Only you were still asleep. Soundly, I might add. I've already asked Becky to clean up after me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You ate _here_? But what about your parents? Surely it would've roused suspicion—"

"They're not here."

"Where are they?"

"On a trip." 

"To where?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Who knows? My mother just said that they'd be gone for a week, and that usually means they'll be gone for a month or so." He paused, as though he read something interesting, before he continued. "It was my mother who came in here earlier, and that was the reason why I turned you to a book." He looked at her. "Do you want to know what type of book you turned into?"

"Do tell." 

He smirked. "You were a first edition of _Hogwarts, A History_, which isn't surprising at all since I've heard that you practically had the book memorized."

"Well, you've heard wrong. I didn't memorize the book, it's just that I _happen_ to remember all the important details." Hermione lifted her chin and squared her shoulders proudly. 

"When you say all the important details, do you mean _all_ the words on _all_ the pages?" Malfoy grinned at her, which she found to be a pretty annoying sight.

"Oh, shut it." She pointed at the book he was reading. "What's that?"

"I've been reading through the transfiguration spells again," he answered. "And I still haven't found out why the spell didn't—"

"It wouldn't matter much, anyway."

Malfoy stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"You won't be using it on me anymore, since we both know what happened the last time." A chill ran through her body as she recalled, but she dismissed it quickly. 

He looked away. "I really don't understand how it couldn't have worked," Malfoy admitted. "I mean, dark arts or not transfiguration spells aren't that difficult to perform—"

"Maybe it failed because you weren't supposed to transfigure a person to a book," she suggested. "Maybe you were supposed to transfigure me to living, breathing thing instead of a non-living one." 

"But how about McGonagall?" Malfoy reasoned. "She's been teaching us to transfigure animals to slippers and teacups… how come the animals return to their original state unharmed?"    

"I suppose humans are different," Hermione told him. "Think about it. When Professor McGonagall transforms herself, she does so into the form of a cat. Rita Skeeter transforms herself to a beetle. Even Sirius Black, he becomes a dog!"

Malfoy looked unconvinced. "But those are animagis!"

"And?" she asked. "Aren't they transfiguring themselves in the process of becoming their animal selves?"

Hermione found out just how stubborn Draco Malfoy was when he set that mouth of his to a determined line. "No," he insisted. "That's not it. There's got to be another explanation for all these." He furiously browsed through his book. 

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say."

A few more minutes passed without a word spoken between them. Hermione had already finished eating, and when Malfoy noticed that, he summoned Becky and the house elf came to clear the dishes away. She did so in a hurry, and with a snap she'd disappeared. Hermione was about to reach for one of Malfoy's books when he looked at her. "What?" she asked, as she'd noticed that his eyes were intent.

"You're going to transfigure me."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said," Malfoy thrust the book at her, "you're going to transfigure me." 

Hermione looked down on the open book on her lap; there she found a complicated-looking transfiguration spell that called for one thing, whatever it was, to be transfigured into a plant. "I'm going to turn you into a… a plant?"

"It's a safety measure," he said, "to make sure that if I do the same to you, you'd be safe, and you won't end up half-dead again."

"I thought I told you that you won't be—"

"Would you rather that I send you off to an unfamiliar place to hide? Or, perhaps you have another of your ingenious suggestions on how I should keep you hidden here. Care to share it with me, then?"

Hermione tried again, for she surely didn't want to use a dark spell on him! "I thought you don't believe in my theory?"

"As of now, anything, even stupid theories are worth a try."

She threw a venomous look at him. "And what if _you_ end up half-dead this time? Won't I be in a bigger trouble, then?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You'd be able to escape, so as long as you have my wand."

"I can't believe you're serious over this," she said. "I mean—"

"You can do this." He stood up and took his wand out of his robe. He handed it to her.

"H-how?" she stammered, as she took the wand. Hermione read at the pages of the book she clutched frantically. "I mean, I need at least a few hours to practice—"

"What do you reckon I'm here for? Of course I'd teach you. I wouldn't want to endanger myself." Malfoy gestured at her. "Stand up."

She did as she was told, but not without a few protests.   
"Now." He walked behind her, and gripped her hand with his. "Make a sign almost similar to the number fourteen on the air, like this." Malfoy moved her hand precisely as he said. "Then say the words _Iva Halman._ Say it with me. _Iva Halman_."   

"_Iva Halman._"

"Good," Malfoy said. He stepped away from her. "Now, be the exemplary student that you always are and turn that chair into a plant."  
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "You can't possibly expect me to be able to do it on the first try!"

"'Try' being the operative word?" He pointed at the chair. "Do it."

She exhaled, and then pointed at the chair. Hermione began waving the wand a few times before she lowered it. "I can't do it."

"Sure you could, I mean, you're not McGonagall's pet for nothing."

Hermione glared at him, and then turned to the chair. "_Iva Halman!_"

A blue strip of light emanated from her wand and struck the chair. Within moments, the chair was engulfed in a blue light and they both saw that it was shrinking until it resembled a small patch of grass on the floor.

After the blue light had gone, and they saw what became of the chair, Hermione let out a shriek of glee. When she looked at Malfoy, she could see that he was smiling, too. 

"Impressive," he said. "Now, turn me."

 The smile on her face vanished in an instant. "Why don't we try on… on another chair, or something else?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No. Better try the spell on me now while you still have a firm grip on it."

Hermione clutched at her wand. "How am I going to turn you back?"

"_Finite Incantatem_ would do."

She was very hesitant as she pointed her wand at him, but she could clearly see that he was just as resolved to be the recipient of the spell this time. Hermione carefully did the number fourteen on the air before she said, "_Iva Halman!"_

A blue strip of light emanated from her wand again, and when it struck Malfoy he let out a howl of pain before he doubled over, and fell to his knees on the floor. Hermione was about to rush towards him when she saw that the blue light had him completely covered, and Malfoy shrank and changed color until she could no longer recognize what part was his skin and what part were his clothes. Another couple of seconds passed before she saw what had become of him. 

Malfoy turned out to be a plant, all right. He turned out to be a thin, long vine that had sharp thorns protruding out of its dark green skin. 

Hermione did not waste any more time. "_Finite Incantatem!_"

In seconds, the spell was reversed, and Malfoy returned to his original self. This time, when she rushed at him there was no blue light to stop her. She knelt by his side. "Malfoy," she called as she shook him, "Wake up."

When he didn't wake, Hermione lifted her hand to slap him, but before her hand made any contact with his skin, he was able to stop it. "No slaps necessary," he drawled. "I'm awake."

She looked at his hand that was clamped on her wrist to his opened eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Malfoy sat up. "No near-death experiences for me, thank you very much."

Hermione grinned. "It works!" she said triumphantly. "I did it!"

"Impressive," Malfoy muttered again, as he stood up. "Well at least we now know what I'd be turning you into the next time I perform the transfiguration spell on you."

"Yes, we do." Hermione stood up as well. She looked at him. "You know, I think the things we turn into somehow reflects our personality. I mean, I turned into a _Hogwarts, a History _book for no apparent reason except—"

"Granger," Malfoy said in a bored tone, "are you going anywhere with that?"

"Yes, actually, I am." She cocked her head to one side. "Do you want to know what type of plant you turned into?"

He looked at her, the expression on his face anything but interested. "Do tell."

There was no small amount of glee on her face when she said, "You were a thorny vine."

**Author's Notes: **Ah-hah! How'z about that, no cliffhangers this time! ;) And it's longer, about double the usual length of my earlier chapters… see, I am taking your advices! Yeehaaa!

Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews you guys keep giving this story… it means a lot to me :) I appreciate it much ;p If you have any comments, please don't hesitate to tell me. I love feedbacks. I thrive on feedbacks. Gimme, gimme, gimme!


	10. Salamin ng Isip

Abyss 

Several days soon passed, and Draco noticed that Granger was becoming quieter, more withdrawn. She rarely talked to him anymore, and when he was inside the room she acted as though she did not notice his presence. Of course they weren't the best of friends (he snorted at the idea of them – a Malfoy and a Mudblood - becoming best friends, which actually earned him an odd look from her), but at least when he wanted a verbal sparring, she would just be too happy to slap him with one. There were even times before when they'd have intense debates about the things they disagreed upon – which usually meant heated arguments about every little detail. But nowadays… well. It would suffice to say that things had been awfully quiet with that big head of hers buried in some big book. Not that he'd given her permission to read his books, but it wasn't as though _that _was going to stop her from doing it. Now, she was, predictably, seated on her usual spot by the window and behind a big tome when he spoke. "Why are you even reading that?" Draco pointed at the title scrawled at the front of the book. "I mean, isn't it an insult to you that—"

"—this book is called _The Mudblood Revolt_?" Granger finished for him. "Funny, I don't think _you're _insulted when you see—" She pointed at a bigger book shelved on the bookcase, "—_Malfoy: A Generation of Great Magic_ in your shelf."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Being a Malfoy isn't an insult," he stated. "It's a privilege."

"Oh, really?" She glanced at him for a second. "Well, everybody else seems to think it's a curse." Granger turned a page on her book. "Besides, why should the title of this book bother me? I mean, that Mudblood insult is definitely getting old. I'm sure you would've realized that by now, seeing as you've used it on me for about six years already."

"Well, what can I say? It's my chosen pet name for you."

_That _effectively tore her attention away from _The Mudblood Revolt_, just in time to see him give her his signature smirk_. _"A foul and a totally judgmental pet name for me? Oh, Malfoy. You shouldn't have. Really."

"Foul and judgmental it may be," Draco admitted, "but it's still a pet name. You're lucky to have been given one, do you realize that?"

"Hmm. I've never really thought of it that way." Granger gave him another of her withering looks. "How sweet of you."  

"It's part of my charm. Besides, why do you think I had my father buy that book for me? Let me tell you, it reminded me of—"

She rolled her eyes heavenwards. "Spare me the details, please." Granger then returned her attention to the book. "What are you even doing _here_, anyway? Aside from bothering me, of course. I mean, isn't there some poor, defenseless house elf that's scheduled for maltreatment from you?" 

Draco pretended to think. "I think that activity is still reserved for tomorrow, but thank you for reminding me." He grinned at her horrified expression. "I'm kidding, you slow, gullible little thing. I'm bothering you because I'm bored."

"And you've got nothing better to do?"

"If I have something better to do then I'd be doing it right now."

"Why don't you try reading?" She gestured at his bookshelf again. "You have an interesting collection of volumes. Just grab one of those and read."

"I've already read through all those books, plus those at the library, in case you're going to mention it." He sighed. "Any other brilliant suggestions?"

"Here's an idea." Granger closed the book on her lap and leaned forward. "Why don't you grab your broomstick, fly to the end of the earth, then jump right off the planet."

"Only when you ride with me."  Draco smirked at her again, and it thoroughly satisfied him to see her fume.

"Argh!" She threw the book at his feet (a big feat for her, considering her weight and that of the book's) and stood up. "I've had it! I've had it with you, Malfoy! What is it with you and your stupid games? One minute you're acting like a spoiled brat, then you're turning to this… this horrible monster who threatens me with hexes and certain death, and_ then_ turning to this… this git who does nothing else but annoy the hell out of everyone in his sight! And unfortunately, _I'm _usually the one that you see!" 

He stared at her while she was loudly giving her whole rant, and then quietly sat on the chair she had vacated. Draco then looked up at her and said, "You're entertaining when you're angry, you know that?" He motioned for her to continue. "You were saying something about me being a git, I believe." It were times like these that he could forget, even for a moment, that they were in a situation far more dire than anything they'd ever been in. It were times like these that he could pretend he was just, in her own words, annoying the hell out of Ms. Know-it-All Granger.

She took a deep, calming breath. "Malfoy—" She took another deep, calming breath. "You are such a—"

"Yes?" Draco looked eager as he spoke. He even leaned forward just to show her how keen he was. 

"Nothing," was her curt reply. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her features the very picture of defiance. "I refuse to be your source of entertainment for any moment longer."

He threw his hands up in mock disappointment. "Oh, come on, Granger!" Draco pleaded. "Surely—"

"NO!"

"Fine," he muttered. "Since you are _obviously_ against my kind of amusement, then let me ask you this: what do _you_ want to do?" 

"Seriously?" Granger retorted. "I want to know, first and foremost, whether my parents are still alive or not. Second of all, I want to know where my friends are, and lastly I would like to know whether or not I can still get out of this whole ordeal in one piece, because only Merlin knows how much this has been—" She looked away, and then closed her eyes. "Malfoy," she began again, in a quieter, softer tone, "I am not being ungrateful for all that you've done for me, don't get me wrong. But I desperately need to know if, after all of these things, I can still go back to the life that I used to live, or if there's anything left of it at all." Granger looked at him. "You asked me before why I was reading that book. My answer is that though it is a direct degradation of all that I am, if I browse through its pages I could still make opinions and contradictions to all that is written there. That way, I can still pretend that I'm at the Gryffindor Common Room, and that book is just a reading assignment, and that _my life is still intact_."

Draco sat there, stunned at the revelations, at the sudden turn of all the events. He just wanted something to do to pass time, damn it! And now… well. He couldn't just sit there, and pretend that he didn't hear her words! So, he broke their stare, then stood up from his seat. Without a word, he walked away from her. Without a word, he opened the door, and stepped out into the hall.

Without a word, he closed the door behind him, and left her alone in his room. 

*

Hermione slowly turned to watch Malfoy as he closed the door. As the sound of his footsteps receded, she sank on her chair, cradled her face in her hands, and groaned. 

Oh, she hated this! She hated this very much! She felt like a prisoner, like a bird trapped in an elegant cage and denied the luxury of living inside it. She constantly feared that someone other than Malfoy might step through that door, which would lead to her discovery… to her death. And Malfoy… that unpredictable bastard! She must admit that she knew absolutely nothing about his moves, or how he would act on certain occasions… and now she just revealed something so private to him. And look at what he did… he just left! Without even a single word to say to her, after all that she said to him! "This is pathetic," she muttered to herself, and her shoulders shook with an emotion that was a mixture of both regret and embarrassment. "Great. This is just great. What's next, Hermione Granger… perhaps after this soul-baring speech of yours you'll tell him all your fears so that he can do all of those to you while he sit there and watch and _totally be silent all through it_!" She took deep, deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. It was useless. It was pathetic.   

She couldn't understand why on earth she was angry, but here she was, angry about… something. Perhaps she was angry because she was just stupid enough to share something as sacred as her deepest, darkest desires to someone like him. Or perhaps it was because she just shared with him that she was living in pretense, and that this was the reason why she was able to get through each day. Or _perhaps _it was because she just shared something that he would undoubtedly use as a reason to laugh at her, to insult her. 

Well, of course the fact that he just sat there, watched, and then left as she bared herself to him did not help in the slightest bit. In fact, it made everything seem worse than it was, because she'd just proven that he really didn't care. 

Hermione straightened herself up. She just had to watch her words around him so that another one of her personal rants won't ever happen again. Otherwise…

She shook her head, and her resolution gave her strength. There would never be any time for 'otherwise'. She would personally see to it that there would never be. 

Her gaze fell on the book on the floor, and just as she was about to pick it up, the door that led to the hallway flew open. Surprise and dread flooded her immediately, as she thought that her fear might've become reality, but before she could do anything more Malfoy had already stepped inside. Hermione blinked as she looked at him, the expression on her face shifting from alarm to apathy. "What?" she asked in a toneless voice.

Malfoy walked towards her, and took her hand in his. "You're coming with me."

"What?" she said again, and this time her tone was holding a surprised tilt in it. 

He tugged at her hand. "Come on," he said as he pulled her along with him. "We don't have much time."

She tried to take her hand back. "You're not trying to save me again, are you?" Hermione planted her feet firmly on the ground, and resisted any efforts to move forward just in case that _was_ his plan. "Because if you are—"

Malfoy glared at her. "I'm not trying to take you out of here. I just have something to show you."

She looked at him in suspicion. "What's that?"

"You'll see."

"Where is it?"

He looked exasperated as he said, "Just come with me, damn it! Is it too much to ask?"

"It is if _you're_ the one asking," she told him.

This time, Malfoy pulled her hand with so much strength that it nearly tore her arm apart. "Ow! That hurts, you foul—"

"Then come with me so that I won't _accidentally_ rip your arm off."   

Hermione glared at him, and then reluctantly allowed herself to be led. She couldn't understand why on earth she was allowing him to do this to her, and why he was holding her hand so tightly she was sure she'd have bruises because of it. She wasn't going to ask him about those, but then this one question leapt to her throat before she could smother it. "Why are we going outside? I thought—"

"Because," Malfoy led her through the open door, and continued walking along the hallway, "we _can_. Plus, I have something that I'm going to show you, and it's outside my room."

"Fine," she spat. "But this better be good, Malfoy, because if you're going to risk my life by—"

"We're here." They both stopped in front of a huge door, which were only about five rooms away from Malfoy's. "Come on. It's inside." He opened the doors for her, and then closed it quietly behind them as they entered.

Hermione frowned as she saw that the room was bare, except for a mirror that hung on the wall opposite the door. No lush draperies hung over open windows, no plush carpets laid on spacious floors. It was a startling contrast to the one room in the manor that she had seen so far. "What is this room for?" she asked. 

Malfoy pointed at the mirror. "_That _is what this room is for." He looked at her. "Go on. Take a peek."

Curiosity brimming within her, she walked towards the mirror. She saw only the reflection of herself walking, and of Malfoy standing still behind her. "I only see us," she commented.

"Don't be too impatient. Just wait," he said. "You'll see."

Hermione stared at the mirror, and her reflection stared right back at her. She glanced at Malfoy, and then back at herself. "Whatever this is, I'm not—"

Then suddenly, spectacularly, the reflections on the mirror changed. It swirled into blurred and distorted colors, and then slowly, surely, the reflections righted itself. Only this time, the mirror did not reflect the bare room where it was, but a cozy, brightly hued area. "Merlin," Hermione whispered, awed. She could recognize the fireplace, the painting, the furniture… "That's _our_ living room."

She did not even hear Malfoy's steps as he walked towards her side. "It looks… warm," he commented.

She grinned at him, before she turned her attention to the mirror again. "That's because of the fireplace, you see? When I'm home, I usually request that they always open it up for me." Then, Hermione gasped; she just saw her mother come into the room. "Mom," she said softly, as she lifted her fingers and traced the outline of her mother. Her hand only touched the cool glass surface, but she didn't care. She was seeing, _touching_, her mother. "Mom," she said again, but this time her voice was quivering. 

And then something from the other side of the room stirred. Hermione found it difficult to tear her eyes off the figure of her mother, but when she did her heart leapt with so much happiness, it hurt. "Dad." This time, Hermione can't help the tear that rolled on her cheek as she saw her father. "That's my dad," she said. "They're alright. Thank God they're alive." And soon, after her words were uttered the mirror once again reflected the bare room, and their faces inches away from the glass surface.   

Hermione couldn't care less if Malfoy was seeing her like this; she just saw that her parents, her family, were alive. Whatever happened at Hogwarts did not happen to them, and for that, she was very grateful. She lowered her face on her hands, and cried.

"Granger." Malfoy spoke so softly she almost couldn't hear him. "Are you alright?" He carefully took her hands off her face and held them away from her.

Despite her tears, the smile on her face came so easily, so effortlessly. "As of now," she said, "I can honestly say that I'm okay." She tugged one hand free from his hold and then began to wipe her tears away with it.

He smiled. "Good," he said. "Because frankly I don't want any more of your tirades, especially like the one you gave earlier. It's too… emotional for me. I can't bear it."

Hermione chuckled at that. "You won't hear any more of it," she told him. "I promise."

"That's comforting to know." Malfoy withdrew his hand from hers, and cleared his throat.

She glanced at the mirror. "This is the most wonderful mirror I have ever seen," Hermione said as she touched the serpent engraved around the object. As she neared the eye of the snake, which was a glimmering emerald, she turned towards him. "What's it called?"

"_Salamin ng Isip. _Mirror of the Mind," Malfoy answered. "Technically, it's a mirror that reflects what you know. It confirms whether or not your knowledge is true. You saw your parents, alive, because you want to know if they are. And, as you saw them, it means that they're indeed living."  

"So…" Hermione's heart began to race, and she looked at him eagerly. "Does that mean… can I see…" She wasn't able to finish her sentence, but he looked like he understood what her unspoken words were.

Malfoy looked away. "You want to see if your Gryffindor friends are still alive," he stated flatly.

"Well, yes."

"Do you know where they are?"

"No, but—"

"Then I'm sorry. You can't see them through this." His words sounded harsh, brutal.

The disappointment she felt was palpable. "But I thought—"

"Granger," Malfoy said, "you saw your parents in _your_ house, didn't you?" When she nodded, he continued, "That's because you know that they will be there, or at least you suspected it. One thing more about this mirror is that you must have some idea of _where_ to see whomever you wanted to see. It's necessary for this to work." 

"So if I picture them someplace where I thought they will be, the mirror will confirm whether or not my suspicion is true?"

"Precisely."

She stared at the mirror, and then thought of Sirius Black's place, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. It was of course a risk, not to mention farfetched, but still… "Empty," she muttered, as the reflection swirled again. "They're not there. Nobody's there." She frowned as she saw the empty room around them again.

"What place is that?" Malfoy asked.

"Ron's older brother's house in Romania," Hermione quickly lied.

"Romania?" When she nodded, he said, "Perhaps Weasley's not as dirt poor as I thought he was." Malfoy looked at her in an odd way. "Why did you think they'd be in Romania? How on earth could they get there in such short time?"

"It was just a suspicion." She shrugged. "I thought they were there."

"Well, they're not."

Was it just her imagination, or did Malfoy seem a little more pleased when he said that? But before she could ask him, he'd already captured her hand again. "Come on," he told her, as he pulled her away from the mirror. "We have something else to do."

"What's that?" 

"I'm going to tour you around Malfoy Manor." 

**Author's Notes: **Some of you are probably thinking that _finally_, there's progress with these two's so-called relationship *grins sheepishly* Sorry, guys! But to be honest, I like exploiting the bickering scenes between Draco and Hermione. It's just very fun to write them hurling all those insults to each other! :) Anyways, _The Mudblood Revolt _might be familiar to you because it was one of those speculated titles for the sixth or seventh book. 

Anyways, you know the drill. Reviews are like drugs to me. I'm addicted to them… so please, please, please, please give me some! And for those who would like to receive e-mails from me about updates on this story, then don't forget to tell me on your *ahem!* review, okay? Thanks! See you on the next chapter, I hope! 


	11. Malfoy Manor Tour

Abyss 

"A… tour?" Hermione asked, as she followed Malfoy outside the room. She threw a nervous glance around her, as she wondered, _what could he be up to? Why on earth would he be so bold as to risk me being seen by anybody?_ "But I thought—"

"Don't worry about the house elves, or anyone else for that matter," he told her. He led the way towards the stairs. "I've already taken cared of them. AND—" he continued, as though he sensed that she was about to comment, "—I didn't kill them, in case you're going to accuse me."

"I was _not_," she denied, as they began their descent. "Why are you even giving me a tour of your house, anyway? Is this place a museum or something like that? Because if it is, I wasn't able to read about it—"

"Because I want to, that's why." Malfoy paused to look at her. "That should be enough reason for you."

"And I guess I just don't have any say about the matter."

"You guessed correctly."

She rolled her eyes. "Is this the way you treat your other guests? By giving them a _forced_ tour of your house?"

"For your information, this is the first time that I'd be doing this, so you better appreciate my efforts."

"Do you mean to tell me that your… ahem, _friends_, haven't been toured around your house before?"  

He shook his head. "They haven't even been in here before."

That came as a shock. "Including Parkinson?"

He shrugged. 

"So she'd been to your house before?"  
"Well, it's not like I have the option to stop her if she wanted to visit."

"Huh," Hermione muttered. "I don't really think that should surprise me, seeing as you two were practically attached at the hip. That _cow_." She glared at his back. " And I guess the only part of this house that Pansy was much acquainted with and interested in is your _bedroom_. Am I right?"

"My, my. Little Miss Know-it-All Head Girl isn't so pure and pristine after all. Imagining my activities _on_ my bed, what would your parents say? And, Granger—" He turned and grinned at her, that simple act full of so many insinuations that it made her skin crawl, "—jealousy doesn't suit you at all."

She pretended to gag herself. "Please," Hermione scoffed. "Like I would be jealous of a pug-faced bitc… no, wait. I wouldn't dignify that with a comment."

"Good. Then let's not talk about this anymore, all right? I do believe it isn't proper to speak ill of the dead."

He began to walk faster, and Hermione had to clutch at the hem of her nightgown to keep up with his ridiculously fast pace. "You have such a huge house," she commented, slightly out-of-breath, "and yet you don't have any other means of getting down from the rooms upstairs."

Malfoy glanced at her, his eyes appraising. "I've shown you a lot of my mother's dresses that you can borrow," he returned, without any indication of exhaustion, "and yet you insist on wearing that ridiculous nightgown."

"Your comment is totally unrelated to what I've said," she deadpanned.

"I know, and I never intended it to be. I was only stating a fact."

"That I have a ridiculous nightgown?"

"Why, Granger," Malfoy sneered. "Your honesty is such a charming trait." 

At that moment, they had already stepped into a room that was, in Hermione's opinion, the grandest and the most luxurious she'd ever seen. A huge chandelier hung at the center of the ceiling, its clear crystals and glass globes illuminating the whole room. There were several other doors, aside from the one they came from, that she stipulated might lead to the other parts of the house. A huge emerald-colored rug covered the floor, and in its middle an intricate emblem was drawn. On one side of the room was a glass case, with the oddest looking collection of jars and vases Hermione had ever seen. On the other side were several marble statues, each one with robes and wands that depicted different eras. And then, completing the look were several portraits hung on each wall, each with frames made from what seemed like real gold. She frowned. These portraits would have been exquisite, only – "They're empty," she noted. "The portraits, I mean. Where are the people inside them?"

She turned, and saw Malfoy standing beside one of the statues, his arm rested around its shoulders. "I've told you," he drawled, "that I've dispatched anyone and any_thing_ that can see and hear you, and that included the portraits. The house is ours for the time being. Now, to start the tour, I want to introduce to you—" He tapped the statue on the shoulder three times, "—the patriarch of our family—"

"—Friedrich Malfoy." Hermione bent as she read from the inscription scrawled at the bottom of the statue. She straightened and smirked at him. "That's the first Malfoy I've heard of whose name can't be associated with anything evil."

"That's because he was only starting then."

"To spread dread, fear, and all things terrible to his fellow wizards and witches, you mean?"

"No, you poor, misguided, uneducated soul," Malfoy said sympathetically. "He was only starting to build a name that would inevitably rule over all things magical."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, doubt clearly sketched over her features. "Really."

"Yes. Really." He inched his chin higher and looked down on her, his arms crossed over his chest. "You should be aware that my family is a respected and powerful clan, and it's almost expected of us to dominate. So, if you want to have a good future, my advice is that you'd better start making excellent _relationships_ with the one who'd rule over it." He paused, and said dramatically, "Me."

She shook her head. "You're delusional." She turned away from the statue, and began heading towards the glass case. Hermione took a good look at the jars, then hastily stepped back. "These jars," she said, her voice slightly shaking, "they don't… really… these aren't real bones and skins… are they?" She looked at him for confirmation.

"Let me put it this way: my family aren't too fond of those wizards that defy them." Malfoy stepped away from the statue of his ancestor. "Those jars are those dunces that did."

"But—" She glanced at the jars, then hurried from them until she stood a good distance away, which meant, unfortunately, standing beside Malfoy. "How did they end up like… like that?"

"It's really simple once you get to know what spells to use." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "What, you thought they did that on their own? Did you honestly think that anyone in my family would dare skin and disembowel another with his bare hands?"

"I really don't think that would matter, considering…" She shuddered as she recalled how the bones were twisted, and how the skin was stretched, while still looking fresh… "I believe you were taking me for a tour?" she asked. She curiously glanced at the other doors, careful to keep her eyes away from the glass case. "Where do we go next? What's the next best part of your home?"

"Well," she heard Malfoy say behind her back, "we're through with the two finest rooms—"

"Two?" At this, she turned around again. "But we've only been to the living room—"

"And that would only be the second best."

"And the first?"

"Why," Malfoy looked exceptionally smug as he said, "my room, of course!"

"Your room, of _course_!" Hermione mimicked with dripping sarcasm. "How can I forget about _that_."

"I can offer some excellent explanations regarding your state of mental health, if you'd like to hear them," he suggested.

"No, thank you," she muttered with disdain. "The day I consult you about my health is the day I get myself expelled."

Malfoy shrugged again. "Your loss."

"You're a lousy tour guide," Hermione stated, point-blank.

"And you're a lousy _guest_." There was a heavy emphasis on the last word that didn't fail to reach her ears. Then, he sighed like he was doing such a huge sacrifice for her. "Fine. Let's go outside."

"Outside?" she repeated.

"Yes. I'm going to tour you around the garden."

"The garden?"

"Mm-hmm. I want to show you the flowers and the bees and Granger is an idiot."

Hermione blinked, and then frowned. "What in bloody hell are you saying?"

"In case you didn't notice," said Malfoy as he smiled his thoroughly annoying smile, "you've been repeating the last parts of my sentences for some time now. I thought it'd be funny if you say that you're an idiot as well. It'd be just like admitting the truth, in my opinion."

She stared at him, the expression on her face anything but amused. "Your sense of humor just amazes me, Malfoy," she muttered without a hint of sincerity.

"What can I say?" He winked at her. "I'm simply amazing."

*

"And this," Draco announced, "is the garden." 

He watched her as her eyes widened, and he saw that on her face was the very clear expression of awe. Granger looked around her, and told him, "This is beautiful." She took deep, deep breaths of the air. "My God, this is… this is unbelievable."

Draco couldn't really blame her for being so taken with the sight, the smell, that greeted her. If there was one part of the manor that Draco was proud of, it was this garden. He was really thankful that his mother was also keen in ordering the house elves to keep this as maintained and well kept as possible. "It is, isn't it?" he asked, his voice not without the slightest hint of pride. "I'd bet on anything that this is better than the gardens at Hogwarts."

"You'd win," Granger told him simply. "Without a doubt."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," he retorted. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, then took deep breaths as well. 

"Seriously," she said, and when he looked her way she was already walking towards one of the bushes on their left. Granger gingerly touched a flower before she turned to him. "I mean, of course I've already seen the entirety of this garden from your room, but to see a piece of it up close, like this… it's just extraordinary."

"Careful, Granger," he cautioned. "Any more of your excitement and you might burst into a song. I know my garden is astonishing, but—"

"Oh, do shut up, Malfoy," she sharply replied. "I'm enjoying a moment here, so please be kind enough to shut up and let me savor this."

Of course, he didn't do as she asked. "So, you like it, don't you?" he asked, his mouth widened into a smile.

"How can I not?" She made a sweeping gesture around the garden. "This has got to be the most amazing and breathtaking garden I have ever seen."

"Perhaps," he drawled, "I should compile the words you've used to describe this garden, then hand it to Mother. I'm sure she'd appreciate it." 

"Why?" she asked out of nowhere.

He blinked. "Why, what?"

"Why don't you like it when someone… well, _I_, say good things about your house?" 

"I didn't—"

"Don't _you_ like this garden?"

"Of course I do, but that's not—"

"Then don't be so sarcastic," she told him. Granger moved further, her attention diverted to other parts of the garden. "I'm sure that if I were you, and I have this great a garden, I'd boast about it." 

"Then perhaps it's best that you're _not_ me," Draco retorted, "because then I _don't_ have to be so expressive of my feelings."

She stopped and looked at him, her mouth already opened to speak, but before she spoke he beat her to it. "Contradictory to what you may think, I _am_ proud of this garden. In fact, I make it a point to go here as many times as I could, or when I'm not doing anything else." Draco stared at the trimmed grass under his feet, his thoughts focused on it. "If you _must_ know, this place… it soothes me."

"That just proves that even the most savage of beasts can be tamed."

He fixed his eyes at her, as he felt his temper fray. "Unlike some mouths, I see."

Granger looked temporarily embarrassed, before she sighed and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"You're right." Draco's lips thinned to a line. "You shouldn't have."

"Malfoy—"

"Forget it. It's already been said." He focused his attention on somewhere else, just to show her that this conversation was over. But if course, the anger her words brought within him could not be so easily dismissed. The nerve of her, telling him what she thought of him… a savage, huh? A _beast_? He'd show her—

"I don't understand you."

That statement of hers made him look at her again.

"Your temper. Your moods. You shift so fast I can't keep up. One minute, you're insulting me, then you're mocking me, and then the next, you seem to want to make me laugh. And then this!" Granger gestured around her again. "You do this, you tour me around your house like I'm a guest, when it's obvious that you don't want to treat me as such. You do so many things _to_ me and _for_ me that I don't know what—" She breathed, and then, "I don't understand you," she repeated. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because…" Draco glanced at the manor, and said, "Because we're both pretending."

Granger gaped at him in surprise. "I don't—"

"I heard you, you know," he stated. "Back there, in my room, when you said that you were reading out of pretense, I heard you. And I did this, _this_—" He mimicked her actions and gestured at the silent, empty grounds around them, "—just to distract you from that type of pretense. So I took you out of that room and brought you here to make you believe that we were just having a simple, harmless stroll in the garden. In a way, it's a bigger lie, a bigger pretense… but a more believable one."

She was quiet for a minute, her eyes just focused on him as he spoke. Then, "And you're pretending as well?" 

"You're not the only one with demons to run away from, Granger," he said bitterly. "Don't be so greedy as to claim all of them to yourself. I have my own share of… _problems_ that I need to forget every once in a while."

"And here I thought," she said, "that if there's anyone in this world without burdens to bear, it'd be you."

"Whoever said anything about me living the easy life? I have you, Potter, and Weasley. Add you three to the fact that I have to live up to some expectations… that's more than anyone can bear." 

"And… saving me… it only made your life more complicated, didn't it?"

Draco stared at her as though she had breathed fire on him. "You didn't have to say it out loud, you know," he snapped. "It's fairly obvious, with the way I have to stun everyone else just so I can take you outside—"

"And what you did will never be forgotten." Granger seemed awkward as she neared him. "You know my demons, Malfoy. You know what I'm running away from. You know them because Merlin knows you're helping me run away from them." Her expression shifted, the look on her face becoming soft, tender. "Perhaps… it's time… that I get to know yours, so I can return the favor. Maybe… in some way, I can help you run away from them as well"

He snorted. "Are we having our very own bonding session here?"

"Yes," she said firmly, and he could see in her eyes the determination to ignore his jibes. "Can't you see, Malfoy? For once, just this once, we have something in common. Of course, having demons that haunt us is a most outrageous ground for commonality, but… it's a start."

Draco paused for a moment, his eyes carefully watching her face. "You don't know what haunts me?"

"No."

"What a disappointment," he said. "For a Know-It-All such as yourself—"

"What I _do_ know about you is that you're such an arse."

_That_ comment made him smirk, despite his best efforts not to. "Did Potter and Weasley teach you that?"

"They didn't have to," she replied. "I saw it for myself."

"So what else do the Head Girl know about the Head Boy?" he challenged. "You seem to have such limited knowledge when it comes to me."

"I know…" He could read the reluctance that suffused her face, but he had to admire her bravery as she went on. "I know that your parents… they're supporters of Voldemort."

"Ah. There you go." Draco clapped his hands. "Very, very nice work indeed. I don't think I need to tell you what my problem is, as you've so plainly stated it yourself."

"I don't—" Then, comprehension dawned on her face, and it transformed her expression so clearly, so completely. "You don't support Voldemort."

"A half-point to Gryffindor," he said, "for a correct, though incomplete, observation."

"Cut to the chase, Malfoy," she told him briskly. "Your quips can only be tolerable to a certain level."

"Fine." Draco stepped closer to her, until only a few feet separated them. "I don't support Voldemort because I don't want to. My parents are so blinded by him that if he asks them to jump off a cliff, they will. They brought me up, believing and making sure that I would be just as faithful to Voldemort as they are to him. But I am not, _obviously_. I don't want to be his servant like the others are. Especially since…" He raked his hands through his hair. "At first, I was only partly reluctant, in that if I can be shown what I can _have_ when I become a Death Eater, then I would persuaded to be one. But as I saw the attack on Hogwarts… the people around me were being killed ruthlessly, and all for what? Because a halfblood ordered it?" He was especially disgusted at this, at the prospect of him, a _Malfoy_, being ordered by a lower class… "Malfoys are not meant to serve; they are meant to _be_ served. And I won't ever kill anyone because I was told to. I wouldn't want to be—"

"—a murderer."

He flinched at the way the word sounded. "I will _never_ be a murderer. I will never kill anyone just for the pleasure of it. The Dark Lord, as my father so respectfully puts it, is an idiot. There are other ways where I can gain influence and be superior without resorting to killing, and I believe in that."

"You don't support Voldemort, and you don't want to," Granger restated. "I don't see what your problem could be from that."

"You forgot my blinded parents," Draco told her, and at once understanding crossed her features again. "I don't think they will be pleased with how big a disappointment their only son turned out to be."  
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Malfoy… you're not a disappointment," she told him softly. "You may be a lot of other things, but a disappointment is not one of them. I'm sure your parents could see that."

"Come now Granger," he mocked, "you're only trying to make me feel better."

"Well what was I supposed to say?" she asked. "I've never encountered anyone with problems as big as yours are."

"That just shows how completely uneventful Potter's and Weasley's lives are." 

"Oh," Granger said, with a knowing smile, "I wouldn't say that if I were you."

"Really."

"Yes. Really."

Draco looked up, and noticed that it was getting late. "Come on," he said, as he walked back into the manor. "I've stunned the house elves for too long. You've had your fun, now you have to get back to the room."

They both entered the house, and Draco stopped at the very base of the stairs. "You know your way up," he said. "Go on." He placed his hand on her back and gave her a little push.

Granger nodded, and then took the first step. But before she took another, she stopped and looked at him. "Where are your mother's dresses?"

"They're in the bathroom. Why do you ask?"

"Because—" She smiled. "You've done so many wonderful things for me today that I thought I might just oblige to what you want just a bit." Granger then seized his hand, to his surprise, and squeezed it. "I will never forget this," she said, her eyes serious and dark with meaning. "Thank you." And then, she was gone.

He blinked as he stared at the space where she was, before he lifted his hand to his face and studied it. "Bloody hell," he commented. "I'm becoming soft. Damn you, Granger." Then before he immersed himself in thoughts too dangerous for him, he shook his head. Draco took out his wand, and said the counter curse, just so to free the house elves and return the portraits back to their normal state.

Just as he was to follow her in his room, Draco heard the front door open, then close. Voices, crisp and clear, were now coming from the living room. He glanced up, as though making sure that Granger wasn't visible from the stairs, and then began to walk towards the living room.

In there he saw that his mother was sitting on the sofa, and his father was standing beside her. Both their faces looked especially grim, and Draco could only wonder why. Opposite them, he saw, were three people, only one of which he was familiar with. How could he not know this one's identity? This woman only accompanied Pansy whenever she visited him in his home.

This woman, of course, was Mrs. Emilia Parkinson. Pansy's mother.

**Author's Notes: **Oh! Thank you so very much for the reviews you left for my chapter ten. Yes, _Salamin ng Isip_ are indeed words from my language, for I am a true-blue Filipino :) Kudos to those who guessed it right! And kudos to all my fellow Filipino D/Hr followers… we're all on the right track here! :) :) :)

The latest parts, as you've noticed, are noticeably lighter than the first few ones. But don't worry, heavier things are on the way… and expect that Draco and Hermione won't be the only persons in the scenes on the next chapters! 

Hehe, look… a cliffhanger. I'm evil, I know… ;) Emilia Parkinson… I don't think Pansy's mother was identified in the series, but if she was, kindly tell me so I could correct it :) And, look! This has got to be the longest chapter in my history of writing fanfic. Thanks for the inspiration, guys! Anyways, you don't have to wait too long… I'll post the next chapter either Monday or Thursday next week. I'm usually allowing my academic schedule dictate when my next internet session would be, so… there :) See you next time! And review, please! You'll make me one happy writer ;)


	12. Wand Testing

Abyss 

"Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous," Narcissa muttered, as she exchanged dark glances with Lucius. "I have never heard of anything more insulting in my entire life!"

"Calm down, Narcissa," he told her, as he placed a hand over her shoulder. Lucius then turned his eyes on Emilia Parkinson. "I'm sure Emilia here can offer a sound explanation regarding her… stand on the matter."

Mrs. Parkinson raised her brows at them, and then sat on the sofa across the couple.

"By all means, make yourselves comfortable," Lucius said, his cold, cultured voice dripping with undisguised sarcasm. "My wife and I would just be most honored to serve you and your friends." He glared at the two men that were guarding Mrs. Parkinson's sides like faithful dogs at her feet.

If she heard the insinuations thrown her way, she was either purposely ignoring it or controlling her emotions altogether. "I want to see it," Emilia said, her hands making brisk movements. "I _demand_ that I see it NOW." 

"As you can clearly _see_—" Narcissa eyed her with disdain, "—that is not possible."

Several moments passed by with the two women contemptuously glaring at each other. Even the two men that stood by Emilia were looking both bored and uneasy.

Draco could not take more of this without knowing the truth behind it all. He had never known the two women to act like they were this minute. Before, his mother and Mrs. Parkinson had always been polite to each other. They were never friends, for it was his father that Mrs. Parkinson was more familiar with, but they were civil with each other. But now… the animosity in the room was very conspicuous, with the two women looking like they wanted nothing more than to claw each other's eyes out. Draco knew that Pansy's mother was nothing like her daughter: she was courteous, quiet, and rather reserved… so what had brought this too sudden a shift? He began to feel a nagging suspicion that this might be about… _no_. There was never any use to make himself nervous over such innocent things. He assumed the look of surprise as he strolled into the living room. "Father, Mother," he said. "I was not aware that you were coming home today. You should've sent word of your arrival." This was met with an alarmed look from her mother, and almost a reproachful one from his father. He wondered at their reactions, before he turned to their guests. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Parkin—"

"Yes, yes," Emilia said, with a furious gesture of her hand. "Your wand, Draco, if you please. I'd like you to hand it to me immediately."

"My… my wand?" He blinked, taken aback by the command and the barely repressed anger behind it. He glanced at his parents in confusion. "What… what is this all about?"

"Emilia," spat Narcissa quite nastily, "seems to think that you killed her daughter, which is, of course, a preposterous, baseless assumption."

"What?" That came as an absolute shock to him. Draco turned to Mrs. Parkinson. "Surely you don't think I killed Pansy…" he trailed off, as he noticed that the woman's face noticeably hardened at the mention of her name. He tried a different tactic. "I would never dream of hurting her, and I never did… I _loved_ your daughter!" 

Something flickered in Emilia's eyes, and her mouth twitched. The two men at her side exchanged glances and then pretended they never did.

"Emilia," Lucius said, as he stepped forward. Draco glanced at his father, and he nodded at him before returning his attention to the fat woman in their living room. "I understand what you must be going through right now. You are only pursuing justice for your daughter's death. But what I do find quite simply unbelievable is that you are willing to think that _my son_ is capable of doing something as grave as killing Pansy." He lifted his chin and looked down on her. "Might I remind you that they were betrothed to one another, and had always treated each other with respect. Draco had no reason at all to murder her."

Emilia then stood up. "You are quite right, Lucius," she said, as she moved towards Draco. She pinned him with a very piercing, very accusing look. "I _am_ after justice, and that is the only reason why I demand that I see _his_ wand."

"I can't believe this," Draco muttered, as he took a step back. He knew that the moment he gave her his wand, she would test it, and then… "I _don't_ believe this! I had been nothing but loving to your daughter… her death was also a shock to me, Mrs. Parkinson! Why would you accuse me, after all that you've seen me do for her?" 

"She's becoming desperate, I'd say." Narcissa rose from her seat and rushed to her son's side. "This is absurd, Emilia. Really. To think that my husband and I were sent back here just so we can hear you blame my son! I will not have this, do you hear? Not in my own house!"

"I will _not_ leave," Emilia said fiercely, "until I see what I came here to see." She gave a look of pure contempt at the other woman. "If you have nothing to hide, Narcissa, then you might as well give me what I want. The fact that you're doing everything you could to stop me from seeing your son's wand makes it all the more obvious that he is not as innocent as you say he is."

Lucius chuckled, his face filled with cynicism. "Why would you even think that a fellow Slytherin would do such an act?"

"Because as of now, I do not draw distinction among houses, nor do I care whether or not the murderer came from my own house. And as you know," she looked at Lucius with an air of authority, "I have supervised and watched as all the confiscated wands were tested, and still the wand used on my daughter was not among them." Emilia turned her eyes towards Draco. "I believe yours is the only one left." 

"All right," Lucius muttered. He gestured at his son with his cane, but his eyes never left Emilia. "Go on, Draco. Give her your wand so that she may never again step inside our house."

Draco stared at his father, and then at his mother. "But I didn't—"

"Of course you didn't," Narcissa affirmed. She glared at Emilia. "But you will do what the _Madam_ wants. Let's just see who gets humiliated in the end."

"Oh, we'll see all right." Emilia laid her hand, palm up, and looked at Draco. "Come on, boy, I haven't got all day!"

A thousand thoughts entered Draco's brain at once… thoughts of what he should do to get out of this situation bombarded him, but as the seconds rolled by these ideas were becoming more and more elusive until, finally, he realized that he had no option left.

He took out his wand, and reluctantly handed it over to Mrs. Parkinson. 

"_Finally_," she said upon receiving it. She gave him a smile filled with false kindness. "I thought I might have to ask my servants to pry it out of you, Draco."

"If _you_ must know," Narcissa said, in a loud voice, "I bought that at Vandel's myself the night your Pansy got killed. I assure you that nothing will come out of that wand."

And _that_ was only the time it struck Draco. _Of course! _How could he be so _stupid_? He must've been hanging around Granger for too long. The wand that he handed over was not the one he used to kill Pansy… even if Mrs. Parkinson tested it, nothing would come out. He'd be able to get away… he could prove his innocence! Draco fought the urge to smirk, and tried to keep his face as passive as possible.

"Oh, but don't you know, Narcissa?" Emilia smiled at her, the expression on her face almost sympathetic. She raised the wand she held. "If you bought this at Vandel's, then this is probably the duplicate of Draco's wand. If that is the case, then you need not worry. It would yield the same result as though it was the original wand that I tested." She cocked her head to one side. "You really ought to read more and go out than stay inside this mansion, _Mrs_. Malfoy."

Draco swallowed reflexively, and looked at his father. Lucius only curled his lip in displeasure, and at once Draco knew that what Mrs. Parkinson said was true. He had hoped… Merlin, that was the only way out of this, and it turned out to be…

The awful truth hit him so hard, he had the chance to feel afraid.

There was no other way out of this.

His awful secret was about to be revealed.

*

Hermione tied the ribbon around her waist securely, and then looked at the mirror in front of her. She smiled. Unlike Pansy's robe, this one covered the entirety of her modestly, with no part of her skin uncomfortably exposed. But like Pansy's robe, this one fitted her perfectly. She only wished that Malfoy's mother would not see her wearing this dress; otherwise she was sure that the older woman would have a fit.

She smoothened the fabric over her waist, and then sighed in pleasure. This had got to be the softest material she had ever worn. She guessed that this robe was made of silk, but sometimes it felt even more luxurious than that. The way the cloth rubbed at her skin… it was like she was rubbing against a rose petal. Hermione glanced at the other dresses that Malfoy gave her. Would they also fit her as well as this one did? She almost smacked herself for sounding so vain, but…

A noise made her look away from her reflection. It sounded as though the door of the room opened, and then closed. Was that him? Hermione walked towards the bathroom door, and then stepped out of it. "Malfoy?" she called, as she looked around. She half-expected to see his blond head somewhere around the room, but she was filled with an odd sense of disappointment when she saw that there was no one there. "That was strange," she muttered. She could have sworn she heard—

"Mistress Hermione!"

She jumped at the sound of the house elf's voice from behind her. "Becky!" she exclaimed, as she clutched her chest. "What are you—"

"Quick, Mistress Hermione!" Becky grabbed her hand and dragged her to the bathroom. "Becky has to hide Master Draco's friend!"

"Hide me?" she queried, as she was pushed inside, against her will. "Why? Why would you—"

The house elf looked especially anxious, for she kept turning her head towards the bedroom as though she expected someone else to appear in it. "There are guests, Mistress Hermione, Becky saw them for herself! Becky recognized Madam Parkinson, Mistress Hermione! And if she sees Mistress Hermione in this room, Becky will sure get a beating from Master Draco, and Becky does not want any beating!"

"Madam Parkinson?" Hermione repeated. "Wait… is this… is this woman—"

"Madam Parkinson is Goddess Pansy's mother, Mistress Hermione! Goddess Pansy is Master Draco's friend, too."

_Goddess Pansy?_ That would have made her laugh, if she wasn't terrified of the reason why Pansy's mother was here. But too late, her curiosity was already peaked. "Who ordered you to call her that?"

"She did, Mistress Hermione. Goddess Pansy did!" Becky was nervously twisting her hands in front of her. "Please, Mistress Hermione. Becky needs Master Draco's friend to say that she will be quiet, as Becky will seal door of bathroom. If Madam Parkinson sees no door where bathroom door is, then she will not see Mistress Hermione, and Becky will not be punished…"

"Alright," Hermione agreed just to soothe the obviously terrified servant. "But Becky… how was Malf— I mean, Draco, how was he downstairs? What were they doing when you saw them?"

"Madam Parkinson was asking to see Master Draco's wand."  

That response made her sick with worry for him. "Merlin," she muttered to herself. "They're going to test his wand…" That could only be the reason why Mrs. Parkinson was asking for it. She had read it before, in one of Malfoy's books, specifically in Paragraph Three, Chapter Seven of _Judicial System in the Wizarding World _that confiscated wands were always analyzed, and if a wand was indeed the one used to commit a murder then the proper incantation would allow the victim's soul to emerge from it. That would be the only evidence necessary to convict a murderer. She turned towards the house elf. "Becky," she said, "can you get Draco for me? I need you to bring him here, immediately."

Becky began to shake her head. "Oh, but Mistress… Becky never lets self be seen by Master Lucius, for Master Lucius doesn't want to see Becky again… it was only through Master Draco that Becky was permitted to stay."

She fought the urge to ask her what happened before, for more important things should be taken cared of. "Becky," she began, "you are faithful to Draco, aren't you?"

Becky nodded vigorously. "Becky owes Master Draco everything."

"You wouldn't want him hurt, would you?"

Becky hesitated, and then shook her head.

That response was all Hermione needed. "Then believe me when I say that if Madam Parkinson gets that wand…" She stopped, as the awful reality hit her. Her voice shook as she continued, "If she gets that wand, Draco will die. Do you understand? That's why you have to bring him here. After you do, then you can seal this door to hide _both_ of us."

The house elf looked stricken. "Oh, but Becky shouldn't, for Master Draco—"

Hermione had enough. If this was how dire the situation was, then she could afford to abandon her ideals just for a little while. "I _order_ you, Becky," she said through clenched teeth, "to bring me Draco. If you don't, I'll—" She glanced around her, and then pointed at the tub. "—I'll drown you!" _That _probably was a bit extreme, but…

Becky glanced at the tub, and Hermione could see the terror in her eyes. She almost took her words back when the house elf snapped her fingers and disappeared.  
*

One of the men stepped forward at Mrs. Parkinson's call. He grasped at Draco's wand, and then recited a long incantation that sounded very foreign to Draco's ears. The man began to wave the wand around, before he made a stabbing gesture four times. 

Draco unconsciously stepped back, as thin, green smoke began to emerge from his wand. He heard his mother gasp beside him, but he wasn't able to see her expression. He was too concentrated on the smoke that began to slowly take shape, until it formed a ghostly replica of—

"Pansy," Mrs. Parkinson whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "My darling!"

The smoke took the appearance of the girl the day she died. Even the smallest of details, like the Slytherin emblem on her robe and the fancy jade necklace she had on, was accurate. Only Pansy's feet were missing, as the lower part of her body remained connected through a thin, vine-like sliver to Draco's wand. At the sound of her mother's voice, the ghost seemed to have awakened. Pansy curled her hands into fists, and then rounded on Draco. "You… you bastard!" she shrieked. She pointed her finger at him. "You killed me!"

Draco flinched. He did not say anything, for his denial would have been useless. His guilt was there for all to see.

"I… I…" Narcissa stuttered, as she too was transfixed at the ghost that was throwing a fit in the air. "I don't… believe this…"

"Draco," Lucius said, in a far more dangerous voice than he had ever heard his father use, "explain yourself."  
"I don't think any explanations would be necessary!" said Emilia, her bulging, red eyes glued at Draco's face. She took out her wand and had it pointed at him in a second. "It is death for you, you fou—"

"Oh, don't kill him, Mother, please."

All their attention was turned towards Pansy's soul. And all of them saw the spite on her face as she looked at Draco.

"Don't kill him before I get the chance to say what I have to say. You haven't even heard the best part of it yet," snarled Pansy, and she slowly floated until her ghostly, blank eyes were at level with Draco's. "You see… the reason Draco killed me…" At this, her face twisted even more, "…is because of Mudblood Granger. I had her cornered, I was moving in to kill her… and then he cursed me! He saved her, at my expense!" 

"You're lying!" he spat. Granger couldn't get involved in this. She must—  
"You see? Even now he defends that Mudblood." She turned towards Lucius. "I'm sure you know her, Mr. Malfoy. She _was_ only the Head Girl this year."

"Pansy," Lucius began, a forced smile on his face, "surely you're not—"

"Oh yes, I am," Pansy retorted. "What else would I benefit from lying? I'm already dead." She smiled at Draco, and lifted her hand to his face as if to caress him. "Goodbye now, love. I trust that I'd be seeing you soon… out of my mother's wand, perhaps?" Pansy then disappeared.

Several pregnant moments passed, without anyone saying anything at all. Then, "You ingrate," snarled Mrs. Parkinson, in very much the same way Pansy did. "You insolent, foul _thing_! For what you did to my daughter, I swear I'm going to make you pay—"

"No." Lucius' voice was firm. Draco looked at him, in the hopes of getting help from his own father, but all he saw was a blank, emotionless mask that Lucius often wore when dealing with Death Eater business. His hopes dissipated, especially when he said, "I will not have you killing in my house, Emilia." 

"Oh!" exclaimed Emilia, a crazed expression on her face. "Like you are going to stop me, Lucius, from getting—"

"The Dark Lord—" said Lucius, and Emilia quieted immediately, "—will decide on his fate."

Emilia reluctantly lowered her wand.

"No!" Narcissa exclaimed. She placed her hands on Draco's shoulders and shook him. "Draco, tell them, tell them you didn't mean to do it—"

"_That_ won't help at all." Emilia clutched at her wand so tight it almost snapped in two. "Lucius is right. I will let the Dark Lord deal with you, boy. Surely he knows what to do with you."

Draco removed himself out of his mother's grasp. "Father, please—"

"Silence." Lucius's face was paler and more tired than he had ever seen it. "I can't help you in this, Draco. I _won't_. You deserve what you will get for committing this grave a sin."

"My son, my very own son," whispered Narcissa. "What have you done…?"

Draco looked around him, and saw that this might as well be the last that he'd see his home.

"Well?" snapped Mrs. Parkinson. "What are you waiting for? Get him," she ordered.

The two men rapidly walked towards him, when…

… Becky appeared in their midst.

"Master Draco, quick!" the house elf said. She held out her hand.

Under any normal circumstances, Draco would have had her burnt just for suggesting that he touch her, but this… well. This was not any normal situation. He grabbed hold of her, amidst the yells of those around them. He closed his eyes when he heard a very distinct popping sound. The moment he opened them, he was in his room. 

He was so happy he could have given his house elf his finest broomstick.

"Malfoy!" he heard Granger say, and at the next moment he was engulfed in a very brief, very tight hug. "Thank Merlin you're okay." She drew away, but quickly grasped his hand with her own. "Come on, we have to hide. Becky told me—"

"No. Hiding won't help us this time." Draco rushed towards his bookshelf, and then started to furiously take books out of the shelf. "We have to get out of here," he said. After he had finished throwing about ten books, he sighed in frustration and began to move towards his drawers. "Where is that damned—"

"You mean this?"

When he looked at her, she was holding out his wand. "You gave this to me, remember? You never took it back."

He felt relief washing over him as he walked towards her. "I can't believe this is happening. This is Snape's fault, he must've told her what he saw—"

"Master Draco, Mistress Hermione, quick! Becky hears someone approaching—"

And then, three more appeared in his bedroom. 

"Do you think you can escape us, boy?" asked Mrs. Parkinson in a false, sweet voice. When she caught sight of Granger, her face twisted into a frightening expression that effectively placed Pansy's pug face to shame. "Ah. And this must be the Mudblood that my daughter talked about."

Granger gasped, and Draco moved to stand in front of her. 

"Well," Mrs. Parkinson said, as she curled her lip, "now _this_, Draco, was something I never saw you do for my daughter. You said you _loved_ her didn't you, boy?" She laughed callously. "That lie of yours convinced me more that you killed her, for my daughter never told me you showed her any amount of affection. She was a martyr to have tolerated you!"

"A martyr? Mrs. Parkinson, if you must know, your daughter," Draco returned, "was nothing more than a pest."

Emilia's eyes bulged, and the vein in her neck throbbed angrily. She gestured at the men at her side. "I don't care about the Dark Lord anymore," she seethed. "I want them both dead! Kill them!"

"Master Draco!" Becky raised her hands, and two glittering balls of light appeared on her fingertips. "You must leave! NOW!" The house elf hurriedly threw the balls of light at the two men, and they fell to their feet as they were hit on their stomachs. But Mrs. Parkinson was also swift; she cursed at the house elf, and Becky soon lay dead on the floor.

"Becky!" Granger wailed. "No!"

"Come on," Draco muttered gruffly. He took the wand from her, and then grabbed her shaking hand. He closed his eyes, and concentrated. _Get us out of here, take us anywhere else… damn it, work!_

There was the flutter of movement around them, as if the wind swiftly swept past them. The sounds of Mrs. Parkinson's yells grew less and less in intensity until he couldn't hear them anymore. As the sounds stopped, and replaced by something else altogether, Draco dared to open his eyes…

… and found them to be standing right in front of Boy Wonder himself.

"Damn it," he swore, as he glared right into Harry Potter's eyes.  
  


**Author's Notes**: Eek, another cliffhanger, I know… I'm mean. I know that, too… ;)

Anyways, I would just like to thank those of you who keep on reviewing this story. You know who you are! And, Dreaming One…I haven't had these last chapters edited, and so all the faults are mine exclusively. Insulations… *hangs head in shame* Arrggghhh! I would have never noticed. Thank you ;)

Oooh, at long last, Harry Potter made an appearance! More of him in the next chapter, and that'll be the first that I'd be writing his character, so some advice and tips would be much appreciated. See you then!


	13. Harry Potter's Cave

Abyss 

It took Hermione a few seconds to re-orient herself with her surroundings. 

She held Malfoy's hand in hers, not caring whether or not she bruised it in her grip. What mattered to her was that it was her only link to what was real, and she'd be damned if she let go of it. And it seemed as though he was thinking the same thing, for his hold on her was as firm as hers on his.

Her eyes were tightly closed, as she felt the spell take effect. Of course she knew how the wand worked, she had been transported to the Malfoy Manor because of it. But now… who knew where it was taking them? But wherever it was, that was probably the place that the wand deemed to be the safest area for them to hide.

For a few moments, she felt as though she was floating on air. Then, she felt the solid ground below her feet, and she knew that they were already out of danger. But she didn't open her eyes just yet. Hermione waited for Malfoy to comment, to say something about the place where they were, but he never did. 

From out of nowhere gasps met her ears, then the murmurs. Finally, a very tentative, very uncertain voice she only knew so well said, "Hermione?"

That was the only time she opened her eyes, and as she did so, she saw about two dozen pairs staring right at her, and at Malfoy. There were many emotions written upon those faces, but none of them was as intricate as those that were written in one. "Harry?" she whispered, too stunned to move. Unconsciously, she squeezed the hand she held, and surprisingly, it squeezed back.

Disbelief was clearly evident on his face, but that quickly disappeared as a smile took over. "Hermione!" 

He fought off the crowd that enveloped the two newcomers, and Hermione met him halfway. "Harry," she said, as she hugged him with all her might. The relief she felt, at seeing her best friend alive, was intense and overwhelming. She had tears in her eyes when she drew away from him. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"You don't know how much I'm glad to see you, Hermione," said Harry, as he lifted his hand and gently brushed away the tears that fell on her cheeks. "Thank Merlin you're alive."

Hermione stepped away from him and dried her face completely with her sleeve. "Where's Ron?" she asked, almost half-expecting to see a gangly redhead appear at Harry's side. "I'm sure he's going to have a—" When she looked at him, she noticed that at the mention of the name Harry's face, before lightened with a smile, now darkened with fury as he stared at the space behind her. The smile on her own face died as worry took over. "…Harry?"

His eyes flew towards her. "Why don't you ask _him_? Surely he knows what happened to Ron."

"What—" She turned to Malfoy, and found him to be busy returning Harry's glare with a malevolent one of his own. "What do you mean? Malfoy's—"

"—friends killed him, " Harry finished, venom dripping from every syllable. He looked at Malfoy again.

"…Ron?" Hermione whispered, as she took a step backwards. She felt hands on her back, and she paused. "No…" The strength in her body was evaporating; every passing second felt like it was robbing her of energy. She stared at Harry determinedly, silently telling him, pleading with him to take his words back. "No—"

"Yes," said Harry, a grim expression on his face. He advanced on her, but his eyes never left the space behind her. "I don't know what _you're_ doing here—"

"_Hermione_ brought me here. Or rather, it was my wand that brought us both," Malfoy said, the first time he spoke since their arrival.  

"—but I'm going to make sure that I'm going to KILL you." Harry lifted his wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

Hermione heard gasps from those around them again, and then the quick shuffling of feet as though they were fleeing from the scene. Through her grief she thought it best to put an end to all of it. "Stop—"

Malfoy dropped his hands from her back, and then casually walked to her side. Harry's wand was still pointed at him, but to this he paid no mind. "Oh, really, Potter? Am I supposed to feel threatened now because you got your little stick aimed at me? Because seriously—"

One side of Harry's mouth quirked up. "You really want to know what I can do with this stick, Malfoy?" he challenged. "Feel tough enough to see for yourself? Because _seriously_, without the two apes by your side you're really quite defenseless."

In one second, Malfoy drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry as well. "Bring it on," he said, arrogantly waving his wand around. "Let's just see who among us is faster with spells, Potter _boy_."

"NO!" Hermione rushed to stand in between the two wands. Malfoy cursed, but immediately lowered his wand. When she saw this, she gave him a grateful look. Hermione turned around and faced Harry. "You—"

"Get out of the way," he muttered, dead quiet, dead serious. 

She could clearly see the want in his face to physically hurt Malfoy, but Hermione would never allow it. "No."

"I'm warning you," he said, and even punctuated his statement with a flick of his wand, pointed straight at her head. "Get out of the way, or I'll—"

"No!" she repeated with stronger fervor. She spread her arms apart. "I won't let you do this, Harry. I already…" Hermione half-choked, half-sobbed, but still she went on. "I already lost Ron. I don't… I _won't_ lose you, too." She met Harry's eyes with her own, and hoped that he would get whatever it was that she wanted to express.

His brows furrowed. "What—"

"Oh," Malfoy said from behind her, "isn't this just the sweetest I've ever—"

"Malfoy, shut the bloody hell up!" Hermione turned towards Harry again. "Harry—"

"You think I won't win against Malfoy? Is that how you think of me, Hermione?" There was bitterness laced in that voice and that look on Harry's face.

"As a matter of fact, Potter—"

"Shut your trap, Mal_foy_!" shrieked Hermione, as she sent him a look that could effectively freeze hell over. She took deep breaths, and then faced Harry. "I don't think that way. I _know_ for a fact that you can beat the bloody pulp out of this git whenever you want, but—"

"Granger!" mocked Malfoy. "After all you've seen me do, is that how abysmal you think of me?"

Hermione closed her eyes, and counted one to ten. Then, "Harry," she said, almost spitting the word out through clenched teeth, "I don't want you fighting Malfoy _right now_ because I don't believe anyone of you is going to win. It's just as simple as that. We're all on the same side—"

Harry snorted, but finally lowered his wand. She dropped her hands to her sides as well. "You're not making sense, Hermione. How can we be on the same side? This is Malfoy we're talking about, and—"

"—and he just killed Pansy to save me." She looked at Harry, and saw for herself the surprise, the disbelief, then the doubt that flashed on his face. 

True enough, he voiced that doubt out loud. "That can't be true," he said. "He can't have possibly saved you, Herm—"

"It must be very hard for you, Potter," said Malfoy, "to hear that someone else _can_ be a hero just like you. Too bad I can't be awarded house points for what I've done." 

Hermione shot a nasty look at him, and when he saw it Malfoy just shrugged.  

Harry gritted his teeth. "You lying piece of—"

"It's true, Harry," she told him. Hermione was quite apprehensive of his reaction, but he had to know. "I saw him do it. I saw it for myself."

Harry was quiet, apparently trying to digest everything at once. His eyes were switching from her face, to Malfoy's, then back.

"He was found out," continued Hermione, as she tentatively took a step towards him. "That's the reason why I said we're all on the same side." She glanced at Malfoy, and found him to be looking intently at her. She looked at Harry. "We're all fugitives here."  
*

"And may I ask where is 'here', anyway?" Draco crossed his arms in front of him, and then looked around him in obvious disgust. He had never seen anything more distasteful in his entire life. The house… or cave to be more precise, looked absolutely rubbish, in his opinion. And that _smell_! What _was_ that? He crinkled his nose, and waited for a reply.  

"Safe house," Potter so succinctly answered, as he tucked his wand unceremoniously down the back of his pants. He turned towards Granger. "How did you get here, anyway?"

"I told you—"

"I was under the impression that I was talking to Hermione, Malfoy," Harry started, "so bugger off."

Draco pursed his lips in annoyance, but said nothing.

Granger just sighed before she said, "Malfoy's wand. It brought us here."

"How?" Potter insisted.  
"That's—" She looked at Draco. "That's a good question, Harry."

He met her inquisitive, challenging stare with one of his own. Then, when she raised her brow at him, Draco rolled his eyes. "It's a portkey."

"A portkey?" Potter stupidly repeated. He glanced at Granger in confusion. "But I thought portkeys were just—"

"It's a different kind," Draco told him, as he waved his wand impatiently. "But that should suffice your quest for truth, Potter. After all, I wouldn't want you to be the insufferable Know-It-All in your trio now, would I?" He smirked at Granger, but found her to be cradling her face with her hands. He looked away, as he realized that he said the wrong, stupid thing. With Weasley too busy being dead, they weren't exactly a trio anymore…

"Hermione?" Potter inquired. 

Draco glanced at her when he thought he heard a very distinct sob. His first impulse was to reach for her hands and remove them from her face, the way he did when she cried over the vision that she saw from the mirror. But when he saw Potter place a hand on her shoulder, that impulse disappeared. 

"Hermione?" Potter asked again. "You okay?"

Draco gritted his teeth. How dim could this scar-headed sod be? How could anyone be okay when they're bawling out their eyes like Granger was? He saw her slowly shake her head.

"Come here." And as though forgetting that they had an audience, Potter reached for her, and pulled her to him again. He placed his arm around her shoulders, then guided her towards one of the corners of the room.

Draco curled his hands into fists, angry that he had been dismissed, pissed that he had been ignored. He dragged his feet towards the opposite corner of the house. One glare at a brat occupying the chair, and the chair was instantly his. He felt a bit better. At least, wherever in hell he was, the people there still knew their place around him!

*

A few minutes passed. Draco noticed that everywhere he turned, glares met him, eyes that relayed their hatred of him, though most of them were only little brats, the oldest of which seemed to be in third year. He could recognize a student or two from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and from Gryffindor… well. Aside from the annoying sod, there wasn't a single Gryffindor student in the "safe house", which was a good thing, because a single Slytherin could only tolerate so much. 

He spotted Granger at the end of the room, deep in conversation with the famous Harry Potter, git extraordinaire. She was no longer crying, but her face was still pale, and she seemed tired. Draco frowned. Couldn't the famous Harry Potter see that his friend needed some rest? Without another word, he rose from his chair and walked towards her. "Granger—"

Potter immediately gave him a look that he always reserved only for him, but he reluctantly forced his expression to turn neutral when Granger placed a hand on his chest. At that act, something flared up inside Draco that made him loathe Potter even more. But outwardly, of course, he kept his face passive, disinterested.

The same could be said about her voice when she spoke. "What?"

Draco blinked.   
Granger sighed. "Well? What is it, Malfoy?"

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe. "Nothing," he muttered, absolutely hating the feeling of embarrassment that flooded him. What was he thinking? Why did he even bother to come here, anyway? He gave a warning glance at Potter and then stalked away.

*

"What was_ that_ all about?" Harry asked, as he watched Malfoy retreat towards the other end of the house, with the students giving him plenty of room to sulk. It seemed as though they were very reluctant to come close to the stinking Slytherin, and for that Harry applauded their intelligence. He watched as the pale boy sank on a chair and proceeded to glare at the table in front of him. 

Hermione shook her head. "I really don't know, but—" She also glanced at Malfoy, pity on her face. "—but I guess he's uncomfortable here."

"He can leave anytime he wants," he stated. "It's not like anyone's going to stop him."

She closed her eyes, before she muttered, "I would."

Harry looked at her, chagrined. "You _can't _be serious."

Hermione opened her eyes, and then shrugged. "Actually, I am." She lifted her chin. "You know what it's like outside this house, Harry. You know what's going to happen to him the minute he steps out of that door. He's as good as dead."

"And?" Harry cocked his head to one side. He felt heat on his face as he glared at her. "I don't really see the negative side to that. Do you?"

She briefly looked away. "I owe him my life," Hermione said, almost murmuring the words to herself. "I can't let him die. I… I won't."  
The anger that he felt when he heard those words was indescribable. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was yell at her, or even hurt her; anything he could do _to_ her that would help him vent out his fury. "You owe him your life," Harry repeated, almost mockingly. "But how about the lives of Ron? Of Ginny? The other students? Can't we say that we have the right to take away his life as payment for theirs?"

She flinched. "Malfoy didn't kill them."

"He's one of those who did." His words were filled with so much anger, so much loathing. There was just no possible way that Malfoy was innocent of all that had happened to them! "He's responsible for their deaths."

"No." Hermione's rebuttal was firm, unmoved, the expression on her face resolved, determined. "He's not."

Harry was quiet for a full minute, just staring at her. Slowly, he realized what was happening. He glanced at Malfoy, and then at her. "I can't believe it," he breathed low. "You're on _his_ side." 

"I'm also in yours, Harry," she said. "Yours and Malfoy's sides are one and the same. How many times do I have to tell you—"

He suddenly grabbed her shoulders, uncaring whether or not his fingers burned her skin. "What did he do to you?" he demanded.

"Ow!" Hermione started to remove his hold on her, but he was stronger. The more she tried to get away, the harder he pressed his fingers on her shoulders. "Let me go! Harry—"

"Answer me!" He shook her, and he clearly saw the terrified look that flashed on her face. "You'd _never_ defend him to me, not without him doing anything to you! Tell me, Hermione, what did—"

At that second, Hermione was forcefully pushed out of his grasp. Harry saw the rage on Malfoy's pointy face before he lifted his hand and delivered a severe punch. Harry took three steps back, and clutched at his jaw. Already he was starting to feel the trickle of blood that ran down his chin. 

A chorus of "Harry! Harry!" reached his ears, but he paid them no mind. All he was seeing right now was Malfoy. Thoughts of Ron, Ginny, the attack on Hogwarts… all these assaulted him as he stared at the other boy. His head pounded madly. With a brutal war cry he launched himself on Malfoy, his desire to inflict pain driving all rational thoughts aside.

From somewhere, he heard Hermione cry out, "Malfoy! Harry! STOP!"

*

"Someone stop them, please!" she yelled. But it was useless; the idiots around them were only chanting for the fight to go on. Her voice was literally one against many. As Hermione stared at the two, a feeling of helplessness flooded her, and she absolutely hated it. She knew she must do something, but what?

"How dare you!" she heard Malfoy yell, as he savagely shoved the other boy on the nearest wall. There, he pinned him, his hands digging on Harry's shoulders. "You hurt her again, you _touch _her again, and I swear I'll—"

"Malfoy!" Hermione grabbed his shoulder and used all her might to turn him towards her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

There was blood running from his nose down to his lips. He viciously wiped that off his face and looked away.

Knowing that there was no sense in waiting for him to answer, Hermione turned her eyes on Harry, who was sporting bruises worse than Malfoy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Harry straightened up, and then felt the cut on his lower lip. "I'm fi—"

Suddenly, Malfoy let out a loud laugh. "Funny you should ask him that after what he'd done to you!"

Hermione regarded him in surprise. "What—"

Harry moved away from the wall. "Oh, so what, Malfoy?" he jeered. "You're her protector now? Just because you saved her once doesn't mean that—"

"Doesn't mean what, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "You should be thankful to me that I saved your little friend instead of letting her die, or else you'd be bitter because of two deaths instead of just one. Unlike you—"

"Stop it, you two!" Hermione finally yelled. She glared at Malfoy, and then at Harry. "Can't you be civil to each other? Can't you two talk without pulverizing each other? Stop acting like little brats, for Merlin's sake—you're both adults, not children!" She took deep breaths, and then looked around her. Again, people had already encircled them, and all were looking like spectators attracted to a brawl. Her temper flared. "This is not a bloody COCKFIGHT! Get back to whatever it is that you're doing, all of you!"

She heard the satisfying sound of scuffling feet as the rest of the students moved away. Hermione was beginning to feel a bit better when she heard another, more irritating sound. Laughter. She turned towards Malfoy, and saw that his bloody face was twisted in mirth. "What in hell would you be laughing about?" she demanded.

Malfoy clutched his stomach, the effect of his laughing too much. "I've never heard you use such language before, Granger! Charming, really."  

Hermione ran a mental scan on the words she said a while ago. When she spotted the word, she lifted her hands as if to strangle him, then contented herself with pushing him. "Pervert! You dirty-minded—"

"Ahem."

She stopped as she heard Harry mention a name in surprise. She turned around, and true enough she beheld the bespectacled face of their Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore!"

"Hello, Miss Granger." He have her a warm smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm very glad to see you safe and sound." Dumbledore turned to Malfoy. "You too, Mister Malfoy. I'm pleased to see that you are here as well, though not as healthy as I'd want you to be."

Malfoy snorted, then wiped at his face again. "Your favorite student just gave me his version of a warm welcome."

Dumbledore chuckled as he shook his head. "Well, despite all the unfortunate events that occurred to us, it is most comforting to know that there are still some things that remain constant." He turned to Harry. "You both should know that though we are not on Hogwarts grounds the same rule still applies."

"Meaning what, sir?" Harry inquired.

But Hermione caught on quickly, and the Headmaster seemed to know it as he turned his attention to her. "Meaning no one's going to magically mend your bruises," she said. She smirked at Harry, then at Malfoy. "You two are on your own."

Both boys regarded her with scowls on their faces. 

"Excellent, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor."

**Author's Notes: **Thank you very much to those who reviewed the past chapter ;) I'm very glad you liked it, and I hope you liked this one as well!

Hmm… seems like I'm killing all the Weasleys. First Ginny, now Ron! Tsk, tsk. I hope you won't take it against me, you guys, but I needed them to be… well, dead, to keep the story flowing. I don't hate the Weasleys, in case you're wondering. In fact, the thing that made me like them is their family bonding.

Anyways… as usual, next chapter will be in next Monday. But I'm already warning you, that chapter will be the last that I'd be posting for this year, as I'll be taking my yuletide break. Regular posting will resume on the second week of January. I hope we're clear on that ;) Advanced Merry Christmas, guys! And Advanced Happy Birthday to me, too (it's my birthday on the 14th. I'm turning 20. Ack, I'm old…)


	14. Sleeping Together

Abyss 

Hermione watched as Dumbledore ushered Harry out of sight, claiming that he had important matters to tell him. There was something bothering the Headmaster, and this she could tell just by looking at him. He seemed… older, somehow, his age becoming more apparent in the lines that marred his face. That was understandable, since she herself felt ages away from the girl who had nothing but grades and Head Girl duties to worry about. The attack on Hogwarts… it took a toll on all of them, managing to change all their lives in one brutal thrust. A sharp pain clawed at her, and for a few moments her eyes stung. Hermione blinked profusely, and averted her attention somewhere else, stubbornly refusing to cry. She needed a distraction, something to focus on and make her forget... she saw Malfoy turn his back on her and head towards his own corner again. "Malfoy…" she called, though she had absolutely not the faintest idea on what to say.

He stopped and turned. "What?"

She noticed that there were red patches of skin on the lower half of his face that told her he'd been rubbing at it for too long. Hermione realized that he was unsuccessful in trying to remove the remnants of the blood that still clung on his chin. "You…um…" She gestured at her own face.

Malfoy immediately rubbed his face with the sleeve of his robe. "Is it gone?"

The act only made the blotches more vivid and striking against his pale skin. "No. And stop rubbing," she admonished. "You're not doing it any good."

He swore and continued to rub. "I need a mirror. Where is a damned mirror—"

"You don't need one. I'll do it." Hermione took the ribbon off her dress, and then went to the kitchen. She placed the cloth underneath a faucet, and moistened it. She was about to return to where he was when she saw that he had followed her, and was now standing very close to her. "Um…" Hermione looked up at him, and hovered the ribbon over his chin. "May I?" 

He shrugged. "Just get the damn stain off me."

Hermione concentrated on his chin, dabbing at it with the wet cloth. The blood had already crusted, so it took a few moments to remove. Aside from the difficulty of having to stand on her toes, she also felt uncomfortable that he was looking down on her the whole time she was doing it. "There," she said, as she stepped back. "All gone."

Malfoy felt his chin as though he could verify whether or not what she said was true just by touching it. "Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I am." She gazed at him, critically scrutinizing his appearance. "Harry must have beaten you pretty badly, Malfoy," she said sympathetically. "Your nose is starting to look like Snape's already."

"What?" His own eyes widened in alarm, and he visibly paled as he immediately felt his not-so-misshapen nose. "That does it, Potter's going to die a very gruesome, very horrible—"

Hermione burst out laughing at his exaggerated reaction. "I'm kidding, you slow, gullible little thing," she quipped. "Your nose isn't swelling… _that_ much, but just enough to let the whole world know that you lost to Potter. Harry. Whatever."

"You have a demented sense of humor, you know that?" he said, still consciously feeling his nose. "You very nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"And _you_… you're entertaining when you're angry," Hermione told him, giving him back the words he said to her when _she _was the one who was mad about something. She almost felt delirious when she saw him color. 

"I am _not_ angry," he denied. "You're just exceptionally annoying. Why are you even annoying me?"

"I'm annoying you because I'm bored."

"Will you quit reciting _my_ lines?" Malfoy snapped. "I realize that you're smart and all that because you managed to remember them, but really, Granger… this just proves how odd and twisted you are."

"What can I say? I've been hanging around you for too long."

"That's it," Malfoy said, as he stepped away from her. "I refuse to tolerate this absurdity any moment longer!" He marched out of the kitchen. 

She clutched at her stomach as she watched him sulk away from her. Oh, that was priceless… priceless! The look on his face… the way he seemed to pale one minute and then redden the next… it was too much. Another round of laughter bubbled from her lips, and though he was already several meters away from her, he seemed to have heard it as he turned around again. "You… you… _Mudblood_!" he retaliated. 

Hermione shook her head. She knew he was just trying to salvage his dignity, and of course she knew he knew the insult wasn't as offensive as it was before. But that didn't stop the other students from gasping at the mention of the foul word. "One of these days," she told him, as she folded her arms over her chest, "I'll think of a pet name for _you_, Malfoy. Something equally charming as Mudblood." 

He smirked. "Then think long and hard, because I'll definitely be looking forward to that day." And with that, he disappeared around the corner.

Hermione chuckled as she recalled his expression. Her mood effectively lightened, she glanced at the ribbon she held at her hands. She thought of tying it around her waist again, but there was blood on the other end, and—

"Hermione."

She looked up, and saw Harry standing on the doorway, the expression on his face very far from pleased. "Hey," she said, wondering what could've gotten him into such a foul state. "How's your talk with Dumbledore?"

Harry gave the slightest shrug. "Fine," he said, the clipped tone of his voice saying that that topic was over. He looked at his side, and then at her. "Where's _he_ going?"

"Upstairs, I guess." Hermione went to him, tying the ribbon around her waist as she did so. "You look pale, Harry. Are you sure you're all right? You took quite a beating."

"I'm fine," he answered. His eyes flashed underneath his glasses. "Why are you even asking? I thought you said we're on our own. Though, of course, you also said that to Malfoy but it looked like you were playing nurse to him just a few moments ago." 

She blinked, startled at the anger and _malice_ that coated his words. "I wasn't playing nurse—"

"Don't even deny it, Hermione. I saw it. The whole _house_ saw it. You… and Malfoy…" He wrinkled his brows in obvious disgust. 

"I was just wiping his…" She trailed off, annoyed at the doubt that was still evident on his face. Of all the things she hated, it was when her friends thought of her as a liar that sets her off the most. "Oh, forget it. Why am I even explaining things to you? You'll just assume I'm taking his side, anyway." She planted her hands on her hips. "Look, Harry, if you want to treat Malfoy like dirt, then fine, be my guest. Treat him that way. But don't_ ever_ be angry with me if I decided to treat him like a person. If you recall—"

"I know, I know, he saved you, you owe him your life, blah, blah, blah." Harry raised his hands. "I understand that, alright? I get it. You don't have to rub it in."

"_If you understand," she said slowly, "then why are you so angry?"_

"It's just that—" He closed his eyes, and then sighed. "Every time I see him… I remember Ron."  

"We've already discussed this," Hermione stated firmly, and damn it, her eyes were stinging again. "Malfoy didn't kill Ron. And for the nth time, I'm _not_ taking his side, all right? It's just that I believe it's not fair to accuse someone when he's innocent." She sighed, and placed her hands on her temples. "Why are we even fighting, Harry? We never saw each other for almost three weeks and we're fighting?"

Harry looked at her, his mouth set on a thin line. Then, "I'm sorry." At least he started to look like he was really sorry.

"It's… it's fine," Hermione told him, waving a hand dismissively in the air. "Let's just forget about all these and never mention it again, okay?"

He finally smiled. "Fair enough."

"Good. Now let me see those cuts and bruises of yours."

*

It took her a few minutes to clean Harry's wounds. Before she knew it, night had already befallen them, and the house had grown silent because most of the children were in bed.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," apologized Harry again, a sullen look on his face. He gestured at their surroundings. "I never expected anyone to just pop out of thin air. All the rooms in this house are already filled with students, and we don't have—"

"—extra bedrooms?" she guessed. She could see for herself that the house was very small, and its living room could've easily fitted inside Malfoy's bedroom.

He nodded.

She spotted the seemingly lumpy sofa on one corner. "Is this room taken?"

He shook his head.

"Then I'll take it."

"But Hermione…"

"It's okay, Harry, really." She proved her sincerity by smiling at him. "I guess I'll just… I'll just take the sofa." She shrugged. "It's not like I haven't slept in one before."

But he still looked very disturbed at her suggestion. "If you want," Harry said eagerly, "we could switch places. You could sleep in my room, it's in the second floor—"

"No, no. I'm fine here." Hermione patted his back. "Don't worry too much about me."

"If you're sure—"

"I am." She noticed that he still disapproved of her temporary sleeping quarters.

"Well…" Harry glanced at the sofa, and then looked straight at her, his eyes strangely unblinking. "It looks… _really_ comfortable."

She shook her head, and then chuckled. "You were never a good liar, Harry. What made you think I'll fall for that?"

Harry scratched his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "I guess I'll just have to look for extra pillows and blankets, then."

"You do that," she said, then watched her friend as he left. Hermione went towards the sofa. "Looks like I'm back to being a guest," she muttered. She sank on the furniture. Admittedly, it was not and never would be as comfortable as Malfoy's bed, or his couch even, but it would have to do. And speaking of that prat… where was he, anyway? It seemed as though it had been hours since she last saw him. She rested her head on the back, still thinking about Malfoy... a minute later, and she was fast asleep.

*

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the living room. He couldn't find for himself a single, empty room in the entire damned place. He couldn't demand that a dozen or so boys leave the room he wanted to have, so where in hell was he supposed to sleep now? "I hate this," he told himself. Whose bright idea was it that they'd be transported to Harry Potter's cave, anyway? That git's probably sharpening his knives; preparing to strike when Draco's at his most vulnerable. He was about to kick a bottle lying on the floor when he heard a familiar sound.

A few moments later, and he saw that the source of that deep, rhythmic breathing was none other than Granger herself. She was sprawled on the sofa, her body occupying half its length. Her head was uncomfortably angled to one side, and a small frown was on her face as she shifted continuously and restlessly. Draco frowned. Was she having a nightmare?

He looked around him. As it was past midnight already, and most of the people were asleep, he supposed that there'd be no one to see. Draco shrugged his robes off, then quietly sat beside her. She was still moving a bit, as if trying to look for a more comfortable position. Finally, her head found the curve of his shoulder, and stayed there. She sighed, and stopped shifting. 

Draco stared at her head, her bushy hair blocking his view of her face. The weight on his shoulder wasn't too much a bother on him anyway, so he allowed it to stay there. He carefully spread his robe over them both, so that one end covered her body and the other warmed his. Draco rested his head on the back of the sofa, still thinking about their current situation... a minute later, and he was fast asleep.

*

Harry clutched the blanket to his chest as he moved stealthily from the top floor to the bottom. A student named Marvin Marcial talked to him while he was on his way to get Hermione blankets, and that was the reason why he was delayed. He just wished that she was really okay with sleeping in the living room. Of course he was willing to let her take his room, but she'd have to deal with the ten Hufflepuff boys occupying the same space, and she was probably safer in the living room, anyway…

At last, after what seemed like an endless flight of stairs he reached the living room. He was slightly out of breath, the effect of his having to run all the way. "I'm really sorry, but there was a student—"

Harry stopped short, the rest of his explanation dying on his tongue.

There, for the entire world to see were Malfoy and Hermione sleeping side by side. Her whole body sagged against his, with her head on his shoulder. Malfoy's robe served as the blanket for them both.

Harry gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to pull the other boy off the sofa. He strode over to Hermione, and took the robe from her, tossing it carelessly over Malfoy as if it was a dirty, contaminated thing. Again, he resisted the very tempting urge to smother him as he slept, and instead focused on Hermione. She made a tiny sound, but remained asleep. He placed the blanket over her, making sure that every inch of her body was covered.

Then as quietly as he came, Harry left the room.

*

Hermione opened her eyes, still weary despite the little amount of sleep she just had. She straightened, moved her head from side to side, and then yawned widely, patting her open mouth several times.

"Well, it's about time you awoke."

Her hand froze, centimeters away from her mouth. She looked at her side, and saw that Malfoy was moving his shoulder as if exercising it. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He bristled at her callous tone. "I know you're not a morning person and all that, but I would really like it if you'd show some appreciation for my being your pillow the whole night." He placed a hand on his shoulder and massaged it. "You've got a really big head, Granger. Perhaps half your weight is in there."

"Wait." What was he saying? Hermione looked at his face, then his shoulder, and back again. "Do you mean to tell me that you were… I was… we slept together?"

"Now who's got the dirty mind?" he asked innocently.

Hermione glared at him, and smacked him quite soundly in the arm. "What I meant to say was—"

"—did you sleep on my shoulder? Pretty much." Malfoy grinned at her. "And you seemed like you enjoyed it, too."

"I can assure you that I didn't enjoy it," she told him evenly. "But thank you."

"You're welcome." He inspected his clothes. "Let's just hope you didn't drool on me—" She hit him again. "Ow!"

She removed the blanket from her, and then stood up. Hermione folded the blanket carefully, frowning as she tried to recall where it came from… a moment later, she remembered. "Harry!"

Malfoy looked insulted. "That's not my name!"

She rolled her eyes. "Quit it, Malfoy. You said so yourself I'm not a morning person, so shut it." She became agitated. "When did you… you know… sit there?"

"Past midnight."

"Past midnight. Past midnight…" Her mind raced. What was the time when she and Harry spoke? She couldn't remember, but—

"I guess you're wondering if Potter saw us sleeping together." Malfoy placed a hand on his chin, as if deep in thought. "Let's see. When you slept on me, I used my robe as _our_ blanket. When I woke up, my robe was smothering me, and you were wearing a different blanket. So… yes. He did see us."

"Or somebody else did," she added in a hopeful voice. But his explanation had a believable side to it…

Malfoy shrugged. "Possibly." He looked at her. "Why are you so worried? You think he'd think you're fraternizing with the enemy and all that nonsense?"

"Of course not, because I'm _not _fraternizing with anyone," Hermione stated.

"Then you've got nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps." She placed the folded blanket on her seat, and noticed for the first time the current situation of their surroundings. "Why is the house so quiet? Are they all still asleep?"

He placed his robes on. "What did you expect? It's only about five in the morning. What type of ungodly creatures would be awake at this time?"

"Well," she said, as she placed her hands on her hips, "I guess this is good. Can I borrow your wand?"

He complied, which came as a surprise. "What for?"

"I'll just tidy this place up a bit." Hermione flicked the wand, recited a few cleaning spells, and the house was in order in no time. "That's loads better. It's amazing what a houseful of boys can do to the… well, the house."

"I don't suppose you can conjure up food like Dumbledore could, can you?"

She looked at him. "Why? Are you hungry?"

Malfoy stood up as well. "The last time I ate was noon yesterday, so naturally, I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

To be perfectly honest, she'd been hungry the whole night, but somehow she never paid too much attention to her stomach. But now that he mentioned it… "Maybe—" Hermione walked towards the cupboards in the kitchen. She opened them, but found them to be bare. "There's no food," she said dejectedly.

"Pathetic!" exclaimed Malfoy. He went to her and inspected the cabinets himself. "Well, this is perfect. First, no room to sleep in, and now there's no food to eat? What's next, Mrs. Parkinson apparating here to kill us?"

"Bite your tongue!" Hermione said sternly. "As much as luck is concerned, we have none. Don't tempt fate, Malfoy!"  
"But we don't have any food!" he whined. "If you must know, I haven't gone this long without eating anything. If this would go on, I might have to resort to cannibalism…"

"Let's not be melodramatic," she said dryly. Hermione thought for a while, and then… "Dumbledore. He's here! Let's ask him—"

"He's gone."

Hermione looked at the door and saw Harry standing there, looking like he'd been awake all night. There were dark circles underneath his eyes that his glasses hadn't quite covered. "Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning? What's so good about this morning?" Malfoy turned to Harry. "Pathetic morning to you, Potter. And by the way, what do you mean Dumbledore's gone?"

Harry ignored him completely, and instead focused intently on her.

"We don't have food, Harry," Hermione told him. "The cabinets are all empty."

"They're gathering dust, which, as you should know, isn't edible."

"I know." Harry placed a cape around him, and then pulled the hood over his head. "That's why I'm going out. I'm going to buy us some food."

"Nice costume you've got there," drawled Malfoy.

"Isn't it dangerous for you to walk around?" Hermione asked, as she and Harry ignored Malfoy's jibe. "What if someone—"  
"I've done it before. I can do it again."

"Then I'm going with you." Hermione started to walk towards him. "Just let me get my—"

"No." Harry's voice was firm, uncontestable, the look on his face grim, severe. "You stay here… with _him_."

"But you might need help!" she said. "How can you manage—"

"I'll manage," he stated. "I'll ask for help when I need it, but as of now, _Granger_… I don't need _your_ help."

And the next thing she knew, he was gone.

Hermione closed her eyes. Harry seemed so cold, so… bitter, and there was no denying the reason why he was. She looked at Malfoy, and he seemed to have read her expression.

He placed a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. "I told you he saw us," he said quite simply.  

**Author's Notes: **Alas! The final chapter for this year is posted. Anyways, thank you, thank you, thank you to those who continue to give their reviews and feedbacks. You don't know how much I smile every time I receive a wonderful review, so… thank you yet again. I hope you liked this chapter as well as the previous ones. I must admit, the past three chapters, including this one, are very dear to me ;) 

As I've said, regular weekly posting will resume on the second Monday of January. I hope I'll see you then! Advanced Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, guys! Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!


	15. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws

Abyss 

_I'm losing Hermione._

This thought accompanied him as he made his way out of the safe house.

Harry trudged on wearily, clutching at his cloak as he did so. Dawn was unforgiving that day; the wind was whooshing as it hit his clothes, making them slap his skin in almost a painful caress. The sky was dark for the sun was still hidden among layers of clouds. There was a generous amount of dew in the air, and he had to wipe away the slight moisture that built on his eyelashes and brows as he walked. The streets of Diagon Alley, once hustling and bustling with a multitude of wizards and witches, now lay deserted, almost abandoned. Pieces of lumber nailed on doors, signs hacked down from their posts, glasses cracked open in windows: these were just some of the symptoms that screamed of desolation, of death. The attack on Hogwarts was just the signal everybody hoped would never happen, as it was most definitely the start of the end for all of them. With Voldemort on the rise to power, who would want to stay and oversee the destruction of their kind? Almost immediately businesses diminished in number, one by one they shut their doors and never opened again. Though most of the Death Eaters, Malfoy's parents first and foremost, tried to stop the merchants from closing their shops, in the end their efforts remained futile, useless. In the end, only a few, like Gringotts, Flourish and Blotts, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and Ollivander's Wand Shop, remained open, alive. 

He glanced around him, eyes always on the lookout, trying to see if there was anyone watching his movements. Satisfied that there was none, Harry pushed the door to the wand shop and stepped inside.

The warm glow from the lone bulb greeted him; as did the owner of the shop when he said, "Mr. Potter." Mr. Ollivander deposited the stacks of wand he had on his arm to the highest level of the cabinets, before he gripped on the rails of the staircase and descended. "The usual, I presume?"

Harry nodded. "Oh, but um… can you please add some extra?" At the old man's questioning look, he continued. "Two more arrived yesterday."

"Friends of yours?"

"One of them is. The other's just a nuisance."

"Ah." Mr. Ollivander went behind one of the cabinets to get his orders. After a few minutes, he came back, and there was a small sack in his hands. Harry could see the white on his knuckles as he hauled it over the counter, directly in front of him. "Here you go, Mr. Potter," he said. "Enough supplies for thirty-three individuals."

Harry took this bag, and, though he trusted the owner completely, opened it and inspected the contents thoroughly. The old man did not seem nonplussed at this, and only looked on. Harry then fished ten galleons from his pockets. "Thank you."

Mr. Ollivander accepted the money, his old eyes crinkled at the corner as he smiled. "Do be careful now, Mr. Potter," he cautioned, pocketing the money. "I have lost a lot of valuable customers these days. I trust that I won't be losing you as well."

It took him a few moments to think of a reply. Then, brimming with confidence he said,  "I can assure you that I, myself, have no plans of losing whatsoever." Harry returned the smile, before he lifted the bag and walked out of the shop. 

He knew that Mr. Ollivander must be baffled by his answer, but Harry had no intention of elaborating. Instead, he concentrated on walking faster, his heavy steps becoming lighter as renewed determination filled him.

_I won't lose Hermione._

_Of course _he wouldn't. He trusted Hermione; he knew that she would come to her senses sooner or later and relearn for herself that the other boy's nothing but vile. Evil. Good for nothing. And when that day comes, he, Harry, would only be too happy to send Malfoy straight to where he belonged.

_I won't lose her. Not to anybody._

_Especially not to Malfoy._

*

"Where's Harry?" a student asked, and Hermione had absolutely no idea who he was. It was possible that this was the first time she'd seen him, for she was sure she would've remembered his face and the abundant supply of freckles on it. "Where's Harry? I don't see him anywhere."

"Um—" She placed a hand on his shoulder on what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "What's your name?"

"Marvin Marcial." The boy sniffled, and rubbed his already reddened nose. "I'm in Hufflepuff." Marvin sniffled again.

Malfoy snickered, and leaned closer to her. "Looks like he's got the makings of a true Hufflepuff, what with all his bawling and all." To the boy he said, "Pull yourself together, you whining—"

Hermione elbowed him on the ribs. "Shut up!"

When they left the kitchen, she and Malfoy saw that there were at least ten students already pooled inside the living room. Hermione was baffled on how they didn't see Harry as he left, but that thought deserted her as these students, upon seeing them, began their interrogation regarding Harry's whereabouts, as though Harry's absence in the house roused them all from their sleep.

"Marvin," she started, tearing the child's attention away from Malfoy. "Harry's out buying us some food."

"Where?" another student asked. When Hermione spotted the speaker, a raven-haired kid seated on the couch, he said, "Raymond Gabriel. Hufflepuff."

"Well, Raymond, Harry's at…" She turned to Malfoy in a plea for help, but to her great annoyance he seemed to find great pleasure in having her on the spot. He sure appeared content as he stood there doing absolutely nothing at all. She shot him a venomous glare before Hermione looked at Raymond. "Harry's at the… market?" she told him, grabbing the easiest, most plausible excuse she could think of. "Yes. He's out buying us some food, so naturally he's in a market."

"When will he be back?"

She resisted the urge to snap at the source of that question, a tall kid with hay for hair and slits for eyes standing beside her, and instead pulled on her most patient face as she looked at him. "And you are?"

"Eric Almony. Hufflepuff."

"Tough luck," Malfoy intoned, "being surrounded by Hufflepuffs." 

"Well, if you'd just help me out here instead of standing there like a great—"

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione hissed, and then forced her tone to turn neutral when she saw the student's obvious terror. "I heard your question, Eric. Harry will be coming home soon." She gave them all a big, toothy smile. "I promise."

"And what good does that promise make?" a burly student asked, removing himself from the wall where he was attached to a moment ago. "You're making those up, aren't you? You don't know anything."

Hermione's smile froze in place, completely astonished at his audacity. "Well—"

"Who are you?" Malfoy demanded in his bossiest voice. Hermione felt she could hug him for coming to her defense. 

Except, of course, that would be awkward.

"Joey Garson," the student huffed. "Ravenclaw."   
"Well, _Joey_," Malfoy said, undaunted by the fact that this one had his height but double his weight. "Have you ever thought that you were probably sorted in the wrong house?"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Malfoy stepped forward. "You'd have to be more of a Hufflepuff to be dense enough to question _us. _Do you even know who we are?"

"I know who you are," Joey answered, still not faltering, and Hermione had to admire his nerves in facing a Slytherin about to strike. "But it's not like it matters to me. We're not on Hogwarts anymore, so you don't have anything over me!"

"Ah," Malfoy said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You're more of a Gryffindor, then, because they're a brave and stupid lot. You'll fit right in." He allowed that to sink deep before he continued. "Listen up, Garson. Even if we're not on Hogwarts you should listen to us because we're older and smarter than you are. Get it, you big lump of lard?"

The kid visibly turned purple at Malfoy's poor choice of words. Hermione was torn between berating Malfoy and thanking him for humiliating Joey, but before she spoke the Ravenclaw opened his mouth again. "I'll only listen to Harry," Joey insisted. "Why should I listen to _you_? Harry's beaten you in all the Quidditch games. You're a loser when compared to him!" 

The Slytherin's expression darkened, became more dangerous. 

"Shut up, Joey!" one of the Hufflepuffs attempted, but the burly boy was on a roll. 

"You're _just_ a Head Boy, but Harry's a hero. _He's better than you are_!"

Silence enveloped the whole living room.

At that point, Hermione had to restrain herself from hitting that arrogant bastard for saying those words. She felt nothing but anger and the desire to claw his eyes out and stuff it inside his fat mouth. What an annoying brat! But the wrath in her chest constricted to fear when she saw Malfoy. That expression… that expression was the double of what she saw on his face the night they were attacked. "Come on," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence around them. Hermione began to push the students to the direction of the stairs. "Time to go back to your rooms." She made her way to Joey and pushed him as well, though this one barely moved at all. "Go!" she frantically said.

"But… but we've only woken up!" Marvin whined, ignorant of the warning bells resounding in Hermione's ears.

"We haven't eaten yet," Raymond added, starting to move towards the kitchen.

"Miss Granger, I have to use the—"

Hermione glanced at Malfoy again, and knew it was best to shut these kids up. "Tell you what. The moment Harry comes in, we'll bring your food to your rooms. Breakfast in bed, how does that sound?" She knew she was spouting anything that came to mind, but she had to get these kids out of here before any bloodshed occurred! 

"But—"

"Well—"

"Miss Granger—"

"JUST GO!" she barked, hands poised over hips and brows drawn together. She could feel her temples throbbing angrily as she stared at the lot.

Reluctantly, the students followed her orders. Even Joey Garson joined the others in making their way out of the living room, much to her relief.  They dragged their feet to the stairs and climbed to their respected rooms, but not without a few grunts of protest. 

Hermione turned to Malfoy, and saw for herself the rigid way his jaw was set into as his eyes were firmly latched on the floor. She went to him, and tentatively placed a hand over his arm. "Hey—"

He shrugged that off brusquely and marched straight to the kitchen. 

She followed him, already thinking of words to soothe. She wasn't ecstatic at having to be the one to face an angry dragon, so to speak, but she couldn't just leave him like this! "Malfoy—"

He shoved his hands to the pockets of his robe, and Hermione noticed the two faint spots of pink that flushed his face as he paced back and forth. "I'm going to kill that kid!" he exclaimed loudly, and she knew that if given the chance he truly would. "I'm going to wring his thick, fat neck—"

"Hey!" she said again. "Stop that."

Malfoy whirled on her. "Did you hear? Did you hear what that dumb prat said? Why, I ought to—"

"He's just scared, Malfoy," she reasoned, in what she hoped was a comforting tone. "They all are. Can't you see it?"

"I don't care. That gives him no right to… to…" He seemed to have calmed down for a bit, because he was quiet all of a sudden. Then, in a very violent display he picked up a chair and threw it on the nearest wall. Upon impact it exploded into a hundred little pieces, flew to several directions, a clear testament to his rage. 

"_Draco_!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling his arm back before he stepped on the wreckage he himself created. "The house is already falling apart _even_ without your help, alright? You shouldn't allow yourself to take him seriously; he's just a kid for Merlin's sake!" 

He was quiet once more, and she didn't remove her hold on him. This time, though, he didn't shrug it off. "Look," she started, in a mild voice. "He just said those things because… well, he's a bloody idiot. Maybe he said those because he's more comfortable with Harry around… I don't know. But don't believe him, okay?" Hermione shook her head. "Ravenclaws are supposed to be intelligent, but this one clearly isn't. His premises don't even add up!" She rubbed his back, her hand moving from the base of his nape to the area just above his waist in slow, calming strokes. "Don't believe him," she repeated.

Malfoy breathed fast, apparently still struggling to rein in his anger. Then, "Fine. I won't believe him." He looked at her, all innocent and child-like. "But can I kick him in his sleep?"

"Malfoy!"

*

Draco grimaced at the mess he made in the kitchen, the remnants of the exhibition of temper he just had. The anger was still there, just waiting to boil over again, but he was doing his best to keep it in check. After all, as Granger had said the house was already falling apart even without his destructive prowess, and… well, there was no other chair to break, anyway.

He crouched over one of the legs of the chair, picked it up, then set it down again. Draco pulled out his wand, whispered "_Reparo,_" and watched as the chair was rebuilt. He was about to walk out of the kitchen when he heard them. Whispers. Murmurs. 

"Did you hear what Joey said?"

"Did I?" his companion sniggered, before he continued. "I'd be surprised if the people on other safe houses didn't. With that kid's mouth—"

"Yeah. He's a loudmouth, that first year. Remember what Professor Sprout told us—"

"—that if there's anyone who could rival a Mandrake's cry, it'd be Joey? Pretty much."

"But what he said about that Head Boy--"

"About him being lower than Harry or something like that? What about it?"

"Well…" A pause. "Don't you think that's too… harsh? Because—"

"It's the truth, isn't it? Gryffindor's been defeating them ever since Harry came in. At least, that's what my brother told me. He's in the same year as they are." Another pause, longer this time. "And besides, he's a Slytherin. All students from that house are foul things. Just look at their Head of House."  

Draco pressed himself closer to the wall, and listened further.

"But Dumbledore said that Professor Snape's a—" 

"Whatever he is, he's still foul, okay? Remember when he made me drink my potion? I couldn't talk for a week."

"But that was your fault. He told us to put in three newt's eyes but you placed the entire jarful! And that—"

"Well I didn't like the way they were looking at me…  oh, who cares about Snape, anyway? Let's just compile a list of what Professor Flitwick taught us since first year. Whoever has the longer list gets half the loser's food."

"Again? But we already did that yesterday…"

Footsteps sounded in the quiet house as their voices faded away.

Draco took a few moments to digest what he heard… all the important details, anyway. He considered following the two to ask them what they know about Snape, or what Dumbledore said about Snape, but…

He shrugged, turned, and had his heart stopped at the sight that assaulted him. 

"Granger, you idiot," he muttered, ignoring the urge to clutch at his chest. It was an act of weakness, he knew. Malfoys weren't weak things. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

She arched her brow, folded her arms, and tapped her foot against the floor. "Me, a sneak? I should ask _you _what you're doing just about now."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Oh, really? Then what do you call standing there and listening to a conversation between Matthew and Ned?"

Draco frowned. "You know those two?"

"Of _course_ I know them," she said arrogantly. "I took time to ask their names. You should, too, if you want to be respected around here."

"I don't need their respect," he declared, just as arrogant. "I want their fear. Respect for you makes you their leader. Fear _of_ you makes you their master. There's a difference."

Granger rolled her eyes, and made a huge fuss out of yawning. "Spoken like a sly Slytherin avoiding the issue. You. Were. Listening. To. A. Private. Conversation." Each word was punctuated with a poke on his chest. "Eavesdropper."

"How would you know?" he asked, swatting her hand away when she attempted to poke him again. "How would you know if you weren't listening as well?"

She was taken aback, he could tell. "Well, I—"

"Yes?" Draco advanced on her, and he did this until he had her cornered. "Come now, Granger," he teased, knowing she'd have to move heaven and earth to get out of this one. "How. Would. You. Know?" he asked, punctuating each word with a poke on her shoulder.

"I…" She blinked, and it delighted him to see the two spots of color that suffused her cheeks. He could feel his fingers burning to touch them and see if they were as warm as they looked. "Um, well, I—"

He grinned, and the two spots on her face deepened in color. "You even knew their names from their voices."

"Ooohhh…" She curled her hands to fists, and then pushed him away. "Fine," she spat. "I listened too, okay? But I only heard the part with Professor Flitwick in it."

Draco smirked. "Sure you have."

Granger inched her chin higher. "Anyway—"

"—anyway," he cut in. "How did you get here? I only see one way leading to this kitchen, and that's where I'm standing at right now."

She pointed at the space near the cupboards. "There's an old laundry chute over there," Granger said. "From what I've read, wizards don't have that in their homes, which lead me to think that this house was owned by a Muggle or a wizard with Muggle heritage."

"This is a Muggle house?"

She nodded. 

"Interesting." Draco looked around him, feeling as though he was seeing the house for the very first time. "That explains the reason why it's already in a state of decomposition." He returned his gaze at her. "How did you know there was a laundry chute?"

"Marvin pointed it to me after I followed them upstairs. The laundry chute was beside his and Joey's beds. Oh, that reminds me, Joey told me he's sorry for all he said about you."

"Really?" Draco replied blithely. "Well, that doesn't make me feel like I don't want to hit him anymore, or wring his neck for that matter."

Granger bristled. "At least he said he was sorry. Do you know how hard it is to make him apologize? I practically had to—" She looked at him, and then at the other end of the room.

"You practically had to what?"

"Well…" She shrugged. "I told him that I'd be docking off five hundred points from his house, and that I'd recommend his expulsion to Dumbledore on the grounds of grave misconduct. Lucky for me, he bought it, and so did every one else inside that room. I guess starting today no one's going to dare misbehave around me." She beamed. "Gullible little kids."

Draco pretended to look shocked. "Lies! The Head Girl tells lies! My, my, such audacity, Miss Golden Gryffindor Granger—"

She hit him on the arm. "Quit it!"

He rubbed at the spot she punched, pretending that it hurt. "You shouldn't hit me too much… or even at all. No one's ever tried to hit me before. I could sue you for this."

Granger smiled brilliantly. "Let's just see you try." She hit him again.

"Sadist."

"Prat."

"You know, those two boys – Nathan and Ed? – were right when they said that you were corrupted and power drunk. I was about to correct them, but how could I when I could see for myself that they were correct?"

"What?" The smile on her face quickly turned into a frown. "I never heard them say anything like that! They only mentioned things about Professors Sprout, Snape and—"

"And here I thought," he started, "that you only heard the part with Professor Flitwick in it."

She looked completely unabashed even if she knew she was caught. "Git."

"Liar."

She was about to retort to that when she stopped, her demeanor changing abruptly before his very eyes. Now she appeared to be subdued, timid, even, compared to the proud woman that she was earlier. Draco turned around, and saw the reason for all of these. "Oh, joy," he muttered to himself.

Famous Harry Potter was back. 

**Author's Notes: **As promised, here is the latest chapter… thank you to all those who still read and comment. Thank you! See you on the next chapter, I hope!   
  



	16. Minas Deep

Abyss 

Harry barely paid attention to the other boy as he took his cape off of him, and threw it at the counter. He then walked into the kitchen, purposely strode between Hermione and Malfoy, and laid the sack he held on the table. As he was taking the contents out of the bag he heard Malfoy mutter, "Oh, thank Merlin for whatever kind of brain you have inside your head. You bought us food! Edible, delectable, scrumptious—" 

He turned around, and showed Malfoy what he bought: a piece of round cheese and a loaf of bread.

"—bread and cheese." Malfoy scowled deeply, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so. "Do you have house elves that you keep around here, Potter? If so, where are they, and why on earth would you think of buying food for those things _first_ before—"

"This is what we have to eat," Harry told him, point-blank.

"You're joking." Silence. Then, "Oh, so you're not joking. All right, I take it back. One chance that I praise you for anything and you screw it." Malfoy cocked his head to one side, assuming the look of arrogance that Harry only knew so well. "You really don't have brains inside that thick skull of yours if you expect _me_ to eat _that_."

"Then feel free to starve," said Harry, dead serious. "This is what we have to eat because this is what I got. Deal with it, you pompous—"

"That's fine, Harry, really." Hermione finally left Malfoy's side and went to Harry's, fidgeting with her hands as she did so. "The children are already up, but I told them to stay in their rooms and just wait until I tell them to come out."

"Good," Harry retorted, his tone still crisp, his manner still cold. "Let's prepare the food first before you tell them to."

"I'll help you," she said quickly.

"That was why I said 'let's' instead of 'I'll'." He finally smiled, and once again he saw the relief that filled her face as he did. Harry opened a drawer and retrieved a tray and two knives. He handed one to her. "You handle the cheese and I'll take on this bread. Make sure you cut it for thirty people or so." 

Harry began to slice the loaf when he heard sharp, repeated tap-taps on the floor. He was about to comment, but Hermione spoke first. "And you're doing that because…"

"Because I don't have anything else to do," Malfoy said dryly. "Captain Potter here didn't give me any assignment."

"So you're bothering us instead of doing something more productive?"

"Well—"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, feeling his blood boil again at having Malfoy distract her so easily, "cut the cheese."

She bit her lip, and turned to do as she was told.

"In case you haven't noticed, _Granger_," Malfoy spoke once more as if he wanted her attention on him only, "I don't have something productive to do."

"And the reason you're—"

"_Cheese_, Hermione," Harry gritted out, as he noticed that she hadn't been able to touch the food just yet. He pointed at it with his own knife.

She said nothing, and finally began doing what she was supposed to do.

For a very little while nothing but the sound of knife against board could be heard. Then, "Oh, look, isn't this just the prettiest picture ever," Malfoy snickered, after a mere three seconds of silence had elapsed. "Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter inside their measly, dingy kitchen preparing breakfast for their thirty gifts to the world—"

"Shush!"

"—I mean, seriously, Potter, ever heard of contraception? Or hobbies, perhaps? Don't you have something else to do except—"

Hermione lifted the knife she held and pointed it at him. "So help me, Malfoy, if you don't shut up I'll—"

"Cut. The. Cheese, Hermione!" Harry exploded, slamming his own knife to the table. When the others just regarded him in surprise he grabbed another loaf from the sack and started murdering it again.

"Go on, Granger," Malfoy intoned after a few awkward moments. "Cut the damned thing before high and mighty Harry Potter burst a vein on his head."

"Better shut that trap of yours or _your_ head will be the one to explode," Harry muttered darkly, already entertaining himself with pictures of Malfoy covered in his own blood.  

Admittedly, it was not an ugly sight.

"I'm sorry," he said, "But I didn't hear what you said, _Harry_. Are you making a retort or talking to yourself again? You retards are just so hard to understand."

"Malfoy—" Hermione tried.

More with murdering the bread from Harry, and less with saying anything.

"What?"

"Just keep quiet," she said.

"How can I be quiet if I can see that Wonder Boy here is mutilating the bread? Continue that, Potter, and you'd have to give the students bowls and hot water as well so they can make porridge out of that thing."

Harry had enough. Whirling on the other boy with his knife clutched on one hand he said, "Oh, so you think you can do better than I can?"

Malfoy smirked. "It's already a proven fact."

"Here we go again," Hermione muttered. 

She swiped the knife off of Harry's hands in one swift movement, but this barely affected him. He only noticed that now, he could easily clench his hands into fists without any hindrances. "Proven?" Harry scoffed. "With what?"

"Let's see." Malfoy displayed the most obvious stance of thinking, with his finger continuously tapping the side of his head. "I'm the one with the badge that has 'Head Boy' written on it in big, bold letters while you have… well… what do _you_ have? A miserable looking scar stamped on your forehead?" 

"Yes," Harry hissed. "I have that. But I also have…" He flashed a triumphant smile. "Quidditch Cups."

The smirk vanished for an instant, replaced with an angry expression. Then that, too, flickered, and once again displaced with a sneer. "Indeed, you have those cups," admitted Malfoy. "You must be proud to see them on your shelf each night."

"You're absolutely right," agreed Harry, glad to grab a chance to gloat. "I even stroke them before I go to sleep."

"Each piece?"

"Each piece."

"Each night?"

"Each and every single night."

"Huh." Malfoy bared his teeth in an almost animalistic grin. "Now I know the reason why you've had to take additional classes from both Snape and McGonagall this past year. Three each, if I'm not mistaken, though of course I'm not counting."

Harry's eyes widened, and flew towards the silent figure of his friend. "Hermione—"

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't blame me if he knows. I didn't tell him anything."

"But she didn't have to, for it was rampant those days. The knowledge that Famous Harry Potter, defeater of You-Know-Who, was behind in his subjects was not something to be taken too easily. And the reason for this? He was too busy stroking his—"

"If you two don't mind," drawled Hermione, two knives on her hands, "I'd like to end this battle of wits and testosterone right this instant. The food is already prepared, thanks to _me_ that is, and we better get these up to the children before they starve to death."

"Don't tell me that you're going to do exactly what you told them you'd do, Granger!"

"Why, yes, Malfoy," said Hermione. "There's a little thing called integrity that I live by. When I told them that I'd be bringing the food to their rooms, that was exactly what I meant to do."

"Don't you think it's too much a bother for you to carry the food to their rooms? What are we here for, substitutes for slaves? Just send Potter to call them, tell them to come down." Malfoy snatched a slice of cheese from the tray she picked up. He bit into it, screwed his face in disgust, and swallowed. "I'm sure they'd listen to him."

"Glad to hear _you_ know that," Harry said. "But I don't think I have to wonder why they listen to _me_ and not to _you_."

He regarded Harry with a sly smile. "Yes you don't, because as we all know Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – especially Hufflepuffs… _and_ Ravenclaws – are stupid. And as they say, birds of the same feather—"

"—can be killed the same way, by shooting at them. End of discussion." She marched off, carrying the tray and leaving the two boys in her wake.

Harry looked after her in confusion. "That's not how it goes," he thought, and said aloud.

It thoroughly annoyed him to see Malfoy laughing, bouncing like a wild ferret as he did so. 

*

"I can't bear this anymore," Hermione thought to herself, as she watched the students pile up at the middle of the living room to get their ration of what little food they had. Harry did call them, and down they came so fast for a minute the whole house sounded of a raging stampede. She felt pity, then anger, at having to see these innocents being subjected to this kind of life: a life of constant threat and fear, a life of fugitives, when they should not have anything else on their minds but their studies. She looked at Harry, and found him to be leaning on the doorway, his face thoughtful as well. Hermione searched for Malfoy amidst the little rampage in the room, but from where she stood she could only see the top of his blond head for he was sitting on the couch. She looked at Harry again, and walked towards him. "This is ridiculous, Harry," she said, low enough to not let the others hear.

"What is?" he asked, dusting his hands on his sweater.

"This." She made a sweeping motion around them. "All of it. I don't understand it and I need to know. Tell me, what happened in all the days I was… gone?"

Harry turned his eyes on her, orbs glinting underneath his glasses. "I was wondering when you're going to ask me that," he admitted, smiling a little. "You always want to know everything, Hermione."

Was that an insult or something else, she didn't know, and at this moment she truly didn't care. "Please," she said. "Watching these kids live like this, without knowledge of how they began to, is driving me insane. I need to know, Harry. I want to understand."

"All right," he said. Harry took her hand, and led her away from the room, towards the direction of the stairs.

"Why do we have to leave?" she asked, trying to keep up with his pace.

"I don't want the others to hear," Harry answered. "They're too young. They won't understand."

"But what do they know?" Hermione asked again, as Harry let go of her hand, having reached the top of the stairs. "I mean, what do you tell them? Don't they ask you why they're living this way?"

He let out a short laugh. "You can't imagine." Harry stopped in front of a door, and opened it. "This is my room. We can talk here."

Hermione stepped inside, careful to not walk over mountains of discarded clothes and blankets. "Wow, Harry, this place needs a lot of work," she muttered dryly, eyeing the disgruntled state of the room. What she'd give to handle Malfoy's wand right now… a little flick should do the trick.

"Here." Harry shoved a whole pile of clothes on one bed and sat on the clear space he created. He patted the empty space beside him.

"Uh, no thanks. I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." Harry laid his palms on either side of him, assuming a more comfortable position. "Ask away, Rita."

She glared at him. "Right."

He held his hands in the air. "Kidding."

"I get that. But what I don't get is…" Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "How did these students end up here?"

"Tunnels," Harry said. "Remember the routes that the professors were teaching us to take? Remember the times when we ask why those routes seemed to always end up in places we know already – the dungeons, the kitchen, the Potions classroom—"

"Yes, yes," she cut in. "I remember. Ron even mentioned…"

Their eyes met, as though a shadow fleeted over them for just a brief period. 

Hermione cleared her throat. "Ron even mentioned that Snape's just trying to get us cornered by leading us to the dungeons."

"But he's not," Harry said. "Turned out that there were a lot of tunnels leading to and from Hogwarts, and the doors of these tunnels are located at those areas that the professors were showing us. Dumbledore had a map of Hogwarts, a very detailed map, kind of like the Marauder's Map, only more… detailed. There were still a lot of hidden doors and passageways that my father and the others had not discovered yet."

"So you took those tunnels," she summarized, "and you ended up here. But why here? What's in this place that could guarantee these children's safety?"

"This house," said Harry, standing up, "is located in a little town called Minas Deep."

"Minas Deep?" Hermione repeated. "There's such a place?"

"Yes, and you're standing on it."

"But I've never—"

"—read it in books?" He shrugged. "Dumbledore told me this place isn't located in any map, because it's meant to be kept non-existent – a place that only members of the Order knows. The whole town is surrounded by a lot of complicated spells, charms that would alarm us if ever there were coming evils or not."

"The safest place," Hermione murmured, and then returned her attention to Harry. "So this is basically the most protected area in all of the wizarding world. But… but does Dumbledore have the assurance that as long as we stay here, we'll be safe?"

"That's why I'm here," Harry told her. "Or at least, that's why I was assigned here, to protect the students in case…"

Silence.

"But these couldn't be the entire number of the students that were saved," she said. "I mean, thirty individuals—"

"They're not the only ones who survived, Hermione," he said. "Of course there are others. They're in the other safe houses, also guarded by spells and some seventh year students." When she gave him a blank look, he elaborated. "Most of those in our year are already deemed capable enough to be given such a task. And since you're here… you could help me."

"Do you know where the others are?"

"Well, as far as I know Seamus and Dean are guarding the house nearest to us. I've heard of Hannah and Justin on the ones over the west. Neville and Susan are supposed to be in the house after that, but I haven't seen them yet."

"And the aurors? What are they doing? I mean, not that I doubt our classmates' abilities but still, aren't they too young? Aren't _we_ too young? Can't the aurors be the ones to guard us?" she said, bombarding him with questions already bordering on accusations. "What is the Order doing exactly?"

"Planning," Harry replied, his eyes and his tone grave all of a sudden. 

Hermione couldn't help but feel nervous. "Planning…?"

"To regain Hogwarts."

"…oh."

He stared at her, never minding her obvious state of shock. "That's what Dumbledore told me last night. The aurors and members of the Order are already plotting an attack to reclaim Hogwarts from the Death Eaters."

"Malfoy's parents," she whispered, and doubted that Harry heard her speak.

True enough, he didn't show any indication that he did. "Dumbledore said that, though he consider this place the safest the longer we stay here the higher the risk of all of us being caught. He can't lose more of the students. A lot had been killed already."

She said nothing, but in her mind she saw the horror that was that night… the halls littered with dead bodies, among them Padma, Parvarti and Lavender… Hermione winced, quelling the cry that rose to her throat.

"The Order had to think of another place to relocate the students in case we do attack Hogwarts. We can't put their lives at risk, and we've been in here too long. But if as we make the move first… we might have a chance."

"When?" Hermione asked, her tone brisk.  "When are we going to make our move?"

"As soon as Snape gives us the signal. But if you ask me, we shouldn't even wait for that. I think we should attack them now."

"And if you ask me, I think it's best that we wait," Hermione told him. "If we make a much too irrational move… it'd be the end for all of us."

A few minutes passed by, with each of them contemplating their own thoughts. Then, "Well," Harry muttered. "I've told you my version of the story. Care to tell me yours?"

Hermione blinked, startled out of her own reverie. "My what?"

"Your story," Harry said. "On what you were doing with Malfoy, and why you're with him all the time you were… gone."

She gave him a weak smile. "Where to begin?" Hermione asked.

"You could begin by telling me exactly what happened on the night you disappeared."

*

Draco turned away from the sight of students stuffing their faces full of the dry bread and the most tasteless cheese he ever had the displeasure of tasting. Of course, he couldn't just as easily turn away from the growling of his stomach, the hunger that was slowly and torturously gnawing at his insides. "Damn you, Potter," he murmured darkly. "Damn you and your being poor and idiotic."

Though it amused him, his entire cursing and imagining Potter lying in a pool of his own blood wasn't helping his current state at all. 

He caught sight of Joey with his thick fat neck just begging to be wrung. Happy to shove his thoughts of hunger away, and at the thought of actual shoving, Draco stood from his seat and made a beeline towards his poor, unsuspecting victim. "Hello, Joey Garson!" he greeted, all sunshine and happy. He heartily patted the boy three times on the back. "How have you been fairing, my good lad?"

Joey only nodded meekly, and started mumbling.

"What?" Draco said. "I can't hear you. Must be because of all the food in your mouth. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Never talk with your mouth full!"

Joey swallowed his mouthful of bread and cheese, his eyes wide and his fat face pale all of a sudden. "I'm… I'm okay."

"Really? Wonderful!" Draco thumped him, hard, on the back three times more. "That's wonderful. You see, I've made it my personal chore to see how you will be doing every single day, for every single _hour_ of the day. That way, I won't be finding anything amiss in your life." He grinned, and it was glorifying to see the other boy turn puce. "Smile, laddie! It's not like I'm going to recommend to Dumbledore that you be expelled. Granger might, but I won't, not unless you provoke me _again_!" Draco gave a hearty chuckle, thumped Joey's fat back four more times for good effect, and then departed.

Already the day was looking grander than how it started. Thinking of ways to make Joey wish he'd never been born a wizard… it was making his insides tingle.

He looked around for Granger, just to gloat, and when he saw her the smile on his face vanished so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place.

Potter was dragging her off to the stairs.

Potter was dragging her off to the rooms!

Damn that boy, he didn't have to take what Draco said seriously, about him not having hobbies except—

He found the thoughts too revolting to put into words. Without further ado he strode after them, but of course he was stopped time and again by having to push the students out of his way. It took him a good ten minutes just to get out of the pigs' sty that the living room had become.

Draco did not stop until he had found the room they were, hopefully, not locked in. Of course, being the polite, well-bred man that he was he didn't dare barge in, as he'd like to do. Of course not, he had manners! Therefore he contented himself with… eavesdropping.

"As I've already told you a thousand times," Granger was saying in a perfectly normal tone, not that of one doing _something_, "he saved me from Pansy."

_Good_, Draco thought, listening further. _They're only talking. That's good._

"He… he dragged me to a window and then jumped out. I thought… I thought we were going to die! But before we fell to our deaths he managed to hold on to this branch, and that saved us both. When we were on the ground we ran to the forest, and there he gave me his wand, and said that it was going to lead me to safety."

"Why?" Potter asked. "Why did he give you his wand?"

"Goyle came along," she answered truthfully. "And when they were gone, I kept on running. But then I thought that I had nowhere to go, so I used his wand. And… and remember how we arrived here, Harry? That was how I arrived at his house."

"So you're saying… you're saying that you were staying in his house all the time you were gone?"

Silence. Then, "Yes. Yes I was. But only because I had nowhere else to go, and I was defenseless, as I had no wand. But then Pansy's mother showed up, and she proved that it was Malfoy who killed her daughter… and the next thing I know, we're here. End of story. Can we go now?"

"Not quite, Hermione," Potter said. "I still have some questions."

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course the bastard wasn't quite finished yet!

"Like what?"

"Like why on earth you and Malfoy are friends."

Draco stilled. Friends? Him and Granger? A Malfoy and a Mudblood?

Huh?

"Do you really think we're friends?"

"Oh, do I?" Potter scoffed. "I see you when you're with him, you know. He… he… he seem to entertain you."

Entertain? What was he, a toy? Some thing to be used for amusement?

"Well, he does," Granger answered.

Draco had to remember that she needed to pay for that comment.

"He does?" Potter asked, his voice going up a notch or two.

"Yes. I mean, underneath all the sarcasm and the callousness Malfoy's an intelligent person. He has logic, which is something hard to come by these days. What he says makes sense, Harry."

Draco grinned, and thought that she'd be forgiven of her sins. _Eat your heart out, Potter…_

"And what? _I_ don't make sense?"

Granger sighed. "What is it with you? Why does it always have to be a competition between you two? You always take it as an insult to you if I say good things about him. Can't you just think for an instant that the world doesn't revolve around you, Harry Potter? God!"

And just as she opened the door Draco was already standing a meter away from it, assuming the look of surprise at her appearance.

"What are you doing there?" she asked, suspicion clearly evident on her face.

"I was just… looking for you."

"Why?"

"Because the students are done with their meal, and are asking for you and Harry."

As if summoned, Potter appeared at her side. "Hermione, look, I'm sor—"

"Forget it. We'll talk later." And with that, she stalked off.

Draco looked at Potter. "Trouble in paradise, Harry?" he asked, all innocent and unknowing.

"Yes," he hissed. "And all because of _you_."

**Author's Notes: **Ey, folks! Sorry if this chapter was a week behind the schedule… but anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it. It's longer! This part's a bit more technical, and _Minas Deep_ is basically a nonsense word. I chose the name because it's from Lord of the Rings – _Minas_ Tirith and Helm's _Deep_. God, I just love the trilogy, not to mention Éowyn and Faramir! Ahem. Got carried away there for a while… ;) Anyways, if you're also a fan of the two, please check out my fic "Of the Sun and Stars." It's my first LOTR fic… *end shameless plugging* 


	17. Stranger Things

Abyss 

Hermione clutched at her blanket tighter, and wrapped it more securely around herself. She stood alone, and quietly, at the doorway of the house, gazing into the arrival of a new day… but this day looked especially depressing, with dark clouds painting the entire sky dim. It was already the fourth time she was doing this. Just before the sun broke out into the horizon she was already on her feet, looking at the serene and calm greenery that literally swallowed the entire safe house. Tall patches of grass were parted into two directions, each connecting the house to the different parts of civilization. A small passageway on the left lead to a magical doorway to Diagon Alley. Narrow grassless grounds on the right lead to the other safe houses. All these Harry told her whenever they spoke to each other… that, unfortunately, weren't a very common event nowadays.

It was peculiar, she thought, sighing and leaning more heavily on the entryway. She'd never had this much disagreement with Harry since… well, ever. Of course they had their differences, but always, always, they manage to work through it in the end. But now? Rare it was that a day passed without either of them scowling or not talking to each other… and of course the reason was very obvious. It was rather regrettable that Harry was just as stubborn to treat Malfoy poorly as she was to treat him civilly. He would never understand; all he'd had, and was still having, with Malfoy were petty, childish, and ridiculous fights. Harry just couldn't, or _wouldn't_, grasp the fact that she was merely acting out of gratitude and, dared she say and think it that way, friendship. He would never understand, and right now Hermione was not ecstatic to make him. Not if it meant ruining a friendship for the sake of building another.      

Hermione shivered, and despite the blanket she had on goosebumps still ran freely across her skin because of the unusual chill that dawn brought forth. She wasn't exactly superstitious, but somehow the gloomy morning seemed to be sending her a message, that something different, something _odd_, was going to happen that day…  

"And what, exactly," drawled a voice, "are you doing there?"

"Brooding," she retorted, not needing to turn around to know whom she was talking to. The laziness and the dramatic intonation betrayed it all. 

"Do you have to do that with the door wide open? It's freezing cold out there, and you're bringing all that air in. Come inside and shut the door behind you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You keep forgetting I'm not some slave you could just order around, Malfoy."

"Fine. Would you please, please, please, _please _come inside and shut the door behind you?"

She chuckled, despite herself. "Not really good with being polite, are you?"

"You're one to talk; you won't even _look_ at me."

Hermione straightened herself. She noted the slow brightening of the sky before she turned around to face him. "Well—"

He immediately pointed at something behind her. "The door, Granger! Close the damned door."

She did, as slowly as humanly possible. The door barely registered a click when it met the lock. He glared at her, and she smiled at him. "And a good morning to you, too."

"Look at yourself," he admonished, a frown permanently residing on his face. "You've been standing out there for too long. Your nose is red already."

Hermione self-consciously touched her nose. "You're lying."

"Ha! Am I? Look in the mirror and see for yourself."

"I don't believe you." She held her chin up, defiance radiating from within her. But he looked terribly convincing that he was telling the truth, and to be honest herself she was beginning to feel really queer already. 

She was about to walk past him when he took a step back, raising his hands in front of him in defense. "Don't come any closer to me! You might develop a cold and I don't want to catch it. I'm perfectly at ease at being healthy, thank you very much."

"What?" she said, appearing to look very troubled. Hermione laid a hand over her chest, acting as though his very words wounded her deeply. "No morning kiss?"

Malfoy smirked at her. "Now that's just you daydreaming."

"Oh, please. Like I would like a… a… ah—" She sneezed. Afterwards Hermione straightened herself and wrinkled her nose delicately, never wanting to admit she was wrong. 

And he didn't wait too long to rub that in. "Told you."

"In my world it's '_bless_ you,' but whatever suits you best." Hermione looked at him from head to toe, taking in his disgruntled and rumpled state. "Well _someone_ obviously woke up at the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"And _someone_ obviously overlooked her own appearance today. Rule number one, Granger," Malfoy said, sticking one finger out, "before you judge other people you must be able to find yourself faultless. And, no offense, but in all the years I have the displeasure of knowing you, I can honestly say I've never seen you look worse than you do now."   

"Offense taken," she quipped. "But not that it bothers me, since I could easily say the same about you."

"I really doubt that. Seriously, though, don't give it too much thought," he said, not bothering to apologize for the rude and judgmental comment, which was so typically his character. "You've been thinking for too long already."

"How would you know?"

Malfoy shoved his hands to his pockets. "I've been up as long as you've been," he said.

"And you were… what, watching me?" 

"Watch you brood?" he scoffed. "Please. Like I want to endure long, dragging minutes of self-punishment. I don't think I've done anything to warrant that amount of pain."

"Then what were you doing?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I've been doing my own brooding. It's not like there's anything else to do around here, except contemplate on my misery and bad luck to actually _be_ here."

"Tell me about it. Thirty-three students and not one, single book among them! It's like… taboo."

"Just one of the many amenities this muggle house lacks. Where's Dumbledore? I'd like to complain to him about our very poor condition." He walked all over the place, and she followed him around with her eyes. "Look at this place. Ten bedrooms and only two bathrooms? One kitchen? No house elves?" Malfoy spread his arms apart, looking very distressed indeed. "This isn't a safe house! This is… a… torture chamber! People go to places like this to be punished, not to be saved!"  

Though of course she knew he was exaggerating as usual, Hermione couldn't help but agree with the fine points he raised. "The only thing abundant in this house is its occupants." 

"Too true." Malfoy shook his head.

Feeling a bit warmed already Hermione removed the blanket from around her, and folded it neatly. She hung it at the back of a chair. "Are you hungry?"

"For some stale bread and sour cheese? Boy, am I ever!" But Malfoy followed her to the kitchen nonetheless.

She took the sack from one of the drawers and reached inside. Hermione frowned, as she was only able to retrieve a fist-size lump of bread. She searched once more, but there was really no sign of the cheese anywhere. Her eyes met Malfoy's, and they both regarded the food in distaste. 

"Well that'll surely feed an army."

"Good thing the army's not here yet." She contemplated on splitting the bread in two, but then there was just not enough food for both of them. Having very little to eat would probably worsen their hunger than relieve it. The best way, she thought, was just to have one of them eat it. Hermione looked at Malfoy again. "How hungry are you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because if I learn that you're hungrier than I am, then I'll just give you this bread so you can eat it."

"What about you?"

She shrugged. "I'll live. Now how hungry are you?"

"Why don't you stop this incessant questioning and just hand me that?"

"Why don't you just answer the question? Unlike some blond ponce that shall not be named, I am very honest and fair. If I deem that—"

"Fine, fine, I'll answer the question if it'll stop you from delivering a speech. I'm very hungry, all right? I'm even hungry enough to eat whatever kind of food Mrs. Parkinson will give me."

"And we have a winner." Hermione took his hand and laid the bread on his palm. "Enjoy."

Malfoy looked at his hand for what seemed to be the longest time. "You're giving me the bread," he said.

"I just did."

"No, seriously, I mean… you really gave me the bread." 

She frowned, very confused at what he was driving at. "And your point is?"

"What about you?"

"How redundant, Malfoy."

"But… are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now eat it!"   
Malfoy took the bread from his palm, very slowly at that, and she deliberately looked away, focusing intently instead at the sack she was folding carefully. She really did not want to see him eat. It would just be too much, because in all honesty she was really very hungry as well. But when she looked at him again she saw that he was holding half of it to her face.

"As if I'll enjoy this alone," he said, his voice unnaturally soft.

She stared at him, unblinking, unbelieving this kind of generosity. Hermione felt tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. She didn't know if it was because of her dysfunctional, early-morning brain, but she was really touched at his act. To think that a selfish, spoiled brat like him would split what little food he had with her… it was deeply moving. 

With trembling fingers she took what he was giving her.

Their hands met, one giving, and the other receiving. It was an ordinary act, one that happened all the time, and yet this moment was an exception. It was an exception because something… stirred between them, and they both realized it at the time it did. Draco was staring at her, his eyes robbed of anything else, baring the gentleness that was underneath. She wasn't looking away either, never caring about the heat that was slowly burning her neck and cheeks. Fire raged from within her; making her breathe with exertion, think with difficulty.

He saw that heat, for his eyes now rested not on her eyes but on the lower part of her face. Hermione swallowed, nervous all of a sudden. Why she was nervous, the answer eluded her, for it was rare that she'd be nervous in front of any man, save only one. Suddenly all there was, all she could see and was aware of, was him.

He still held her hand, the crumbs grounded between their palms. She could see his face shift, his expression becoming that of someone's she never saw before. This one, this one had Draco's face but not the cruelty, the severity he was known for. This one wore a kindness impossible to see on a Malfoy. 

And before she could memorize that look, he had withdrawn his hand, and looked away. The moment was lost.

Hermione felt like she was going to explode. It was very warm and very cold all of a sudden. Beads of sweat began to emerge from her skin, and she wanted to fan herself, but she didn't. Not when he was still here.

All of a sudden she found it uncomfortable, and suffocating, to be around him. Apparently, he felt the same way. 

"Um…" Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well, um… enjoy." 

She didn't speak, not trusting her voice right this instant. Hermione merely nodded.

"I'll leave you alone." He gave her a half-smile and left.

She noticed that, as he was leaving, he didn't eat his share of the bread. Instead, she saw him shove it inside his pocket.

Hermione decided she wasn't hungry anymore, and that she'll keep her share as well. 

The moment was lost, but it could be recalled.

A few minutes elapsed. Hermione's brain, now properly functioning, began to analyze and rationalize the events that had occurred. As she cradled her head on her hands one question only emerged from her lips.

"What in freaking hell just happened?"

*

"This is interesting," Harry muttered, looking at Hermione, who was at the couch, and then at Malfoy, who was standing near a boarded window. For the whole two hours he was up he never saw them talk to each other, and stayed away from each other, which were highly unusual. Harry was getting used to see them stuck to each other's sides like spell-o-tape on paper, but this morning was very different. He could only assume that something happened to the two while he was still, fortunately, drifting in the realm of unconsciousness. 

What that something was, Harry was really not ecstatic to know. But some part of him was grateful for it.

"Hey," he said, walking closer to her. She never showed any indication that she heard him speak, and instead kept on fiddling with the blanket she held. "Hermione?"

"What?" she spoke, finally looking up at him. 

He noticed that she was looking paler than he remembered. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Do you have a cold?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked again. "I've seen a lot of the kids developing colds, you know. I can recognize the symptoms right away, and from what I see, your nose—"

"I'm not developing _anything_, Harry," she insisted, playing with the blanket again. "Not any cold… or something else." Her voice died down and she got a far-away look on her face. 

"If you say so." He reached down and placed a hand over hers. "If you feel anything, just let me know, okay? I've got some potent stuff that'll blast that cold away."

Hermione smiled. "I'll let you know as soon as I feel anything."

"You do that." Harry patted her hand before moving away. "Are you hungry?"

"No," came her rushed answer. "I… I mean… we don't have any food left."

That sure did stop him in his tracks. "What? I just bought those—"

"—four days ago, Potter." Malfoy spoke from his own side of the living room. "I think now's a great time to go shopping again."

Harry turned to him, noticing the very blatant absence of sarcasm or even undertone in that annoying voice of his. He seemed… distracted and preoccupied. "It's the hunger," he deduced. He made a mental note to keep Malfoy hungry all the time so as to make him tolerable. "Fine," he spoke aloud. "I'll just buy us some food."

"You can't leave this house, Harry!" Hermione said, standing up, the blanket falling to her feet unnoticed.

"Why can't I?"

"Because the students get all pathetic and whiny when they learn of your absence," Malfoy answered. "And it's not really my idea of a good time to stuff their faces full of cloth just so to keep things quiet around here."

Harry looked at him again, his brows drawn together. He made another mental note to keep Malfoy full so that he won't be so creepily talkative all of a sudden. "I see. But you both know that if I don't leave the house we'll all starve to death, right?"

"Not necessarily," Hermione protested. "You showed me the doorway to Diagon Alley, remember? I can go instead of you."  

"Yes, and then you'll be caught, and then what?"

She tore her eyes away from Harry to look at Malfoy. Surprise, then anger, colored her face. "What?" she spat. "You think I'll screw this one up?"

"Of course you will. You _always_ screw up. Things were perfectly normal one minute and the next…" He straightened up and walked towards them. "_I'll_ go."

"Oh, and now it's _my_ fault that things got weird in there? Besides," she scoffed, clearly offended at the notion of Malfoy going instead of her, "you don't even know where the doorway is."

"Then show me."

"_Never_."

"Fine. Don't tell me. You're not the only one who knows where the doorway is, anyway." Malfoy looked at Harry. "Where is it?"

He got a bit of a surprise to be suddenly included in this war of words. "Well—"

"Don't tell him anything, Harry!" Hermione said, grabbing his arm rather painfully that it caused him to flinch. "If he's so high and mighty then maybe he can find it out for himself."

"But I don't have the time to find it myself. If I do, do you really think I'll stay here and listen to all this?" Malfoy fixed Harry a very serious look. "Work with me, Potter. Doorway. Where is it?"

Harry fought to remove himself from Hermione's steely grip. "See here—"

"What makes you think _you_ won't screw this one up yourself?" She said to Malfoy, releasing Harry and planting her hands on her hips.

"Because, unlike some bushy-haired girl who shall not be named, _I_ don't walk around without a wand."

"Ha! As if yours is the only wand I can borrow."

"Let's just see if someone lends you, you manipulative little minx!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from a squeaky little ferret!"

"All right!" Harry yelled. "Stop it, you two!" He raked his hand through his hair, very frustrated to say the least. Now he could say he understood Hermione's exasperation whenever _she_ was trying to patch things up between him and Malfoy. "I can't even begin to express how odd this feels, being the one in the middle of a fight. But enough is enough! Hermione, you get to go to Diagon Alley."

He didn't miss the way her face lighted up with a triumphant smile aimed at Malfoy.

"BUT only if Malfoy goes with you."

Just as quickly as it lit up, her face fell. Hermione turned to him, her face livid. "_What_? Harry—"

"You don't have a wand, Hermione," Harry said. "Nowadays Diagon Alley is a very dangerous place to walk around defenseless. Since I can't go, he'll be there to protect you."

"That's me, your protector," drawled Malfoy. "Fear not, distressing damsel."

She snorted. "As if I need someone to protect me. I never really wanted my own knight, thank you very much."

"You want me to get my wand so I can shove it up your… nose?"

"Try, and I'll guarantee something bigger will be shoved into your ars—"

"_Don't_ even try my patience, you two," Harry said, growing increasingly annoyed. "Go, before I change my mind and leave you here with the children to deal with. And I think you both know dodging Death Eaters anywhere is a lot better than babysitting."

Hermione stalked to the door, with Malfoy following a short distance behind her. A few frighteningly quiet moments later, they were gone.

Harry contemplated a few moments, and then shrugged. Deciding it was best not to dwell on unexplainable phenomena like this one, he muttered, "Stranger things _have_ happened."

**Author's Notes: **I'm very glad that you guys liked the last chapter… I must admit I (through Draco) was particularly nasty towards Harry there, but can I be blamed? Heehee. Anyways, hope you liked this one as well. This one is shorter, as Malfoy's POV is omitted. I can't tell you the reason, but it was necessary. See you next chapter! I'll give you a hint: if in this chapter something almost happened, on the next one… well. Let's just say something else will. **Finally.** Heehee!


	18. Dire Needs

**Abyss **

It was an uneventful trudge towards the door to Diagon Alley. Neither of them spoke a word or uttered a sound, which was very taxing and very uncomfortable to say the least. Hermione tried hard not to glance behind her, but it proved to be a difficult task to continue ignoring his presence. At several points in their short journey, she thought she heard him mumble something, but it was too low to be understood, and she'd know he was too far. At several points in their journey, the hair on her nape would rise and goosebumps would run across her skin, and she'd know he was too close. She wanted to say something, but she didn't, for what could she say that would make the situation less awkward than it already was? 

Fortunately she didn't have to say something, because at the end of their walk he spoke first. "Now what?" he asked, as they stood in front of a brick wall.

Hermione looked left and right, and learned that the brick wall extended in both directions, beyond what her eyes could see. "Well," she said, biting her lip, "Harry told me to move a brick…somewhere around here."

"I don't think I have to point out how many bricks there are in this section of the wall only, let alone the entire length of it!"

She turned sharply towards him. "All right! No need to yell. I'm going to figure it out," she said. With Malfoy watching intently beside her, Hermione placed a hand on a lone brick, and pushed.

Nothing happened.

"Well, that was really exciting. I'm still reeling from it. Why don't you try again?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you try with me?"

"Why should I? You're the one who said you know how this works."

"And you're the one who said if I told you how this works you would have known what to do in case something like this happened." 

Malfoy frowned. "I didn't say that."

She wrung her hands out in frustration. "I don't care, okay? Just help me do this, and maybe we could argue later, when we actually have accomplished something." Hermione laid out both palms on the wall, and started pressing. She let out a breath of relief when she saw Malfoy do the same thing.

Moments later, she came across a brick with a corner stuck out. She pushed this corner in, and when she did the whole wall shook. Hermione took a step back, as did Malfoy, as the entire ground quavered with formidable intensity. He moved an arm in front of her, and instinctively she grasped at it, her fingers burying themselves deep on his skin. And then suddenly, spectacularly, the bricks in front of them separated, moving in circles in their respective places before moving away from the center. A small pathway emerged, and through it she could see a familiar street in Diagon Alley. The shaking stopped, and when it did she released Malfoy's arm. Their eyes met for a second, and then she looked away, pretending nothing out of sorts happened. Hermione then stepped through the pathway. He followed shortly, and after him the bricks moved again, closing this time. 

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," she heard him say.

They walked, stepping out of a dark, dingy alley and coming to the dark, dingy streets. Hermione shivered as the obvious difference in ambiance and mood of the place confronted her. This shouldn't have surprised her, but it still did. The whole street was so eerily silent and creepily tranquil that an intake of breath would have created a stir. She looked beside her, and noticed that Malfoy was now walking next to her instead of behind her. She drew great comfort from that, because now it didn't feel like she was alone.

It was depressing. The quiet land was pulling her spirits down, and suddenly she felt very low and spent. It didn't really help that it was starting to drizzle a bit. She needed company, someone to talk to, someone to distract her. Naturally, Hermione turned to Malfoy. "You're awfully quiet," she observed, hoping against hope he wouldn't ignore her. "No insult to hurl on me today? Or, perhaps, you're saving them all for more special occasions?"

It took him several moments to reply. "I was just thinking. But since you're practically _begging_ me to insult you, then I would gladly oblige. Will stuck-up Head Girl do?"

She shook her head. "Not very creative, I see."

"I told you," he said, "I was busy thinking."

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she prayed he wasn't thinking what she hoped he wasn't thinking. "About what?"

Malfoy gingerly touched his robe, and wrinkled his nose. "Do you realize that we've been wearing the same set of clothes for four days straight already?"

Hermione could feel the anxiety ebbing from her. She let out a breath she wasn't aware she held back. "So?" she inquired, grateful that her voice didn't betray her inner turmoil. "What have you got against it? We've been cleaning these, anyway."

"It's not the same. Cleaning's most definitely not enough. I could still feel the grime and the dirt…" he trailed off, disgust apparent on his expression. "I want… I _need_ a new set of clothes. And you do, too." 

At that time, they were passing through the part of Diagon Alley where the shop of Madam Malkin stood barely open. "Do you want to go inside?" she said, stopping and pointing at the store. "Because you could just easily buy one, if your need is so dire."

He looked very frustrated as he stared at the displays on the window. "That's just it," he said through clenched teeth. "This is the only time I could and would say this, but I don't have any money with me. It shames me to admit that I'm almost as dirt-poor as the Weas—Potters."

Hermione appreciated his tact. "Oh. Well, if that's the case, then don't buy a new one," she said. "You could just borrow from Harry, like I did, or from the other students. Or, if you don't want to do that, then you can settle for a hand-me-down. I imagine that a second-hand robe will suit you just fine."

Malfoy snorted. "Don't mock me, Granger," he said. "I'd have you know I'm more willing to have both my arms cut off than to let anyone make me wear a suit already worn and thrown out by somebody else." He walked away from her. "Come on, we better get moving before this rain pours down on us. I don't want my _only_ robe to get wet."

They started walking again, the wand shop coming closer and closer to sight. "Then you have got a problem. You just have to learn to be contented in wearing those every single day from now on."   

He looked morose as she said that, but before she could point out his pathetic vanity the look disappeared, replaced by grim determination. "No," he said. "There's another way."

"And that would be?"

Malfoy fixed her a very serious look. "I'd apparate back to the manor."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. "_What_?" she demanded severely.

He looked very content at his own ingenuity. "Think about it. It's the best way to solve this," Malfoy stated. "I could—"

"You can't do that!" she exclaimed. "Are you out of your mind? Do you really have a death wish or something? Because, if you do—"

"It's not like I'm going to let something happen to me or allow myself to be caught! Five minutes, that's all I need to get everything I need – money, food, clothing—"

"You're insane," she spat, infuriated beyond belief. "INSANE, I say! Are you really willing to risk your life just so you could get yourself some money and… and clothes?"

Malfoy looked very shrewd as he said, "I'd get you your nightgown, if you want."

"No! I knew you were vain, but not this… this…" Hermione grabbed him again by the arm. "Don't be _stupid_, Malfoy! Have you ever thought of the consequences of your actions? Most likely the odds are against you. What if your entire house is charmed? Mrs. Parkinson—"

"Only Malfoys can place a spell on the house," he said, prying her fingers from his arm. "And, in case my parents did, I could easily break—"

"What if there are Death Eaters in your room, huh? Ever thought of that?"

"I could defend myself well. And it's not like—"

"What if… what if…" Hermione racked her skull for something brilliant to say, but damn it, she found nothing else. Panic rose unbidden within her, making all rational thoughts hard to grasp. "You can't do this, Malfoy," she repeated. "You _shouldn't _do this! I'll… I'll… I'll break your wand before you even try it!"

"Don't make empty threats, Granger," he spoke low. "You know I won't allow you to do that." 

"And you know _I_ won't allow _you _to do it, either," she spoke with deep and true conviction. 

The sky heaved, and rain poured. Malfoy looked up, and then at her. Grabbing her hand he said, "Come on."

They ran a short distance, water drenching and sneaking through their clothes and into their skin. By the time they've gone inside an alley they were both dripping wet. The air biting and cold, Hermione rubbed her arms with her hands furiously, searching for warmth she couldn't locate. He had grown quiet and pensive, standing a good distance away from her. Of course, she couldn't put the issue to rest.  "Promise me," she said through chattering teeth, "p-promise me you won't go b-back."

Malfoy turned towards her, his face lightly obscured and hidden in the shadows, making it more unreadable. "Why does this bother you so much?" he asked, in a low tone. She now only had his voice as basis to know his mood. "Would it really affect you if something were to happen to me?"

She didn't have enough energy to play with words with him. Honesty was much simpler and less tiring than lies. "You know it would."

"Why?" he asked again, like a petulant child wanting to hear why he was cherished. "Why does this bother you so much?"

"Because—" she stopped, words and courage failing her at this point. Damn it, she was freezing, and his question… "Because it b-bothers me to have you risk yourself over some worthless junk. It's pointless, it's p-pathetic, and—"

"Why?" he asked again, stepping closer to her, his face now unseen.

"Because it b-bothers me to think that you'd… you would…"

"Die?"

"Or worse." She shook her head. "I don't want you to die," she whispered, and wondered if he heard her. Her voice was small, nothing compared to the loud pit pattering of the water on the ground. Hermione averted her gaze, focusing instead on his shoes. "_I don't want you to die_."    

A few seconds waltzed by, slowly, leisurely, without them saying a word. Then, softly, tenderly, he said, "You're shaking."

"I'm fi—"

But before she could finish, he'd already engulfed her in his arms.

Hermione stood there, her whole body rigid with shock. Malfoy was _holding _her, his hands resting on her lower back, his robe cloaking her entire form. His clothes were wet, but he was warm enough to comfort her. Her hands, her freezing, shaking hands, began to feel a tingling sensation as incredible heat flowed from his body towards hers. 

"Just relax," he said. "This will be over soon."

There was something enigmatic and hypnotizing about his voice, as well as the way his hands began to rub her arms and her back in an attempt to quell the shivering. Before she knew it, her whole body was leaning heavily on him, and her head was already resting on his chest. He received her weight easily, and she knew that if he'd suddenly release her she would fall. At that thought she wrapped her arms around him, just to ensure that he wouldn't dare make her fall. Hermione closed her eyes, as she could feel the pale beating of his heart, and his light breathing. She inhaled, knowing his scent, recognizing it. 

"Granger?"

She felt his whole chest rumble as he spoke her name. "Hmm?"

"Are you warm?"

"I'm…" The answer froze on her lips as she slowly, leisurely, opened her eyes. Her eyelids were heavy, so very heavy, as though his holding her made her feel drugged all of a sudden. Hermione couldn't believe that, here they were, standing still and close to each other with nothing between them. She knew she should feel embarrassed, or awkward even, at having him this… intimate against her. No one, not even Harry or Ron, had ever held her this way! She tried to remind herself that this was _Draco Malfoy_, but that was useless. She still felt safe, protected, though she knew to whom the arms that encircled her belonged to. Why? Why did it feel as though this was expected… _desired_, even? And, was she the only one thinking this, the only one assuming that there was something to be interpreted differently about this, when in fact this was nothing at all? At that point her eyes widened in alarm, and she looked up. "Malfoy—"

She was effectively silenced when his lips descended upon hers, halting the words meant to bubble from her mouth.    

If the fact that he was holding her before shocked her, halting everything within her, then this, _this _sent her nerves haywire, making everything spin out of control. Her eyes drifted shut again, and she lifted her limp arms and brought it around his neck in an attempt to pull him nearer, closer to her still. This was absurdity, she knew. This was madness, she knew. But the knowledge had not abated her, did not make this less delirious, addicting. 

She was cold. He was warm. She was trembling. He was soothing.

It was logical.

It _felt_ right.

He pulled her to him, crushing her chest to his, with a force strong enough to make her moan. The slight pain she felt brought her back to realization, to what she was _doing_. Her hands fought their way between them, and pushed him away.

"What—" Malfoy mumbled, half-stumbling at the strength she had exerted.

Her cheeks were hot and burning, a sharp and painful contrast to the ice forming in her stomach. "I'm sorry," she muttered, rubbing her arms again. Without him to hold her she felt alone, and cold. "I'm… I'm…"

"Hermione—"

And then, with speed she never knew she had she ran out of the alley and into the streets, into the deafening rain. Each drop soaked and drowned her senses until she felt numb. Hermione heard him calling out to her, calling after her, but she ignored it, just like she ignored the pain in her side, the throbbing of her legs as she ran.

What was she doing? Was she running away from the feeling? Or from the man who caused it?

She was confused. More than that she was scared, of what she was feeling, at the sheer intensity of it.

Escape. That was what she wanted. That was what she was in dire need of…

"Granger!" she heard him yell. He seemed far, too far to reach her…

And just as a pair of hands grabbed her, she fainted. 

**Author's Notes: **Oooh! A cliffhanger. Never left you one of those in quite a while. Hehe. Anyways, thank you guys for the awesome reviews! See you next time!


	19. Stinging Realizations

Abyss 

A furious knocking rattled the whole house. Harry hurried from his room, leaving behind his cleaning as he did so.  He heard the students mutter something about the noise, and the others were obviously becoming nervous because of it. He tried his best to reassure them, though he himself did not know who was doing all the incessant, demanding noise. It couldn't be Hermione and Malfoy; it was too early for them to return and the rain outside would've surely slowed them down. But if it weren't them then who could it be? The others who knew the location of the safe house were provided with a key so they could come and go as they please. They won't have to knock, or try and tear down the door like whoever this person was, was doing. As he stood in front of the door, he took a deep breath, preparing himself, before opening it. The sight that greeted him shocked him right out of his calm thoughts. "What the hell happened?" Harry moved towards this person, his hands spread out. "Give her to me!"

Malfoy didn't answer, and refused to hand his burden over. Instead, he walked into the house. His silence infuriated Harry, but he stepped aside quickly to let the other boy pass. The pale Slytherin was carrying a flushed Hermione in his arms, and she appeared to be unconscious. Both of them were soaking wet, dripping water everywhere they went. "Malfoy, what happened to her?" demanded Harry, his eyes glued at Hermione's face. She looked sick, shivering and cold.

"No time for questions," snapped Malfoy. He made a beeline towards the sofa and yelled something incomprehensible but sounding like a stream of curses to the students who occupied it at that time. As they left he carefully deposited Hermione on it, first laying her legs and then lowering her head. Malfoy turned to Harry, his face twisted into a scowl. "Don't just stand there, you ponce! Get her some blankets!"

Harry bristled, but did as he was told. He took huge strides and three steps at once to get to his room faster. He took the blanket off his bed and was back in the living room in record time. Malfoy moved to get the blankets from him, but he refused to hand them over. "I'll do it," he said, holding his burden tighter to his chest.

"No," Malfoy said, pursing his lips. He combed his hands through his hair. "It's no good. She's freezing. We. we've got to get her out of her wet clothes." Sensing that this statement caused uproar in the students, he turned to them. "Get back to your rooms," he said low, but the venom in his voice was very much apparent - and terrifying - that it caused the others to scamper back upstairs. Once all was quiet again, he started towards Hermione, his intention blatant.

Harry saw red. He ran to stand between Hermione and Malfoy, his intention to protect her honor dimming all other thoughts. "There's no way in hell," he started, "that I'm going to allow _you_ to undress her."

The pale boy stared at him, a faint tinge of pink spreading on his face. "I was never volunteering," he gritted out. "But since you've stated your feelings so clearly, then let me say mine: I'm going to kill you first before I allow _you_ to do it." 

They raged a silent battle as they stared at each other, both defiant, stubborn, neither backing down, giving up. Harry lifted his chin, and raised the blanket he held. "Then this would have to do." He knelt beside Hermione, and very gently wrapped the blanket around her. She clutched at it desperately, her teeth chattering and her body shaking. Alarm and concern resounded in his very being. "I told you she was sick!" he said, looking at Malfoy.

That obviously came as a surprise to Malfoy. "No, you didn't," he answered. "You never said anything about her being sick!"

"Then why did you make her come with you?"

Malfoy closed his eyes. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Potter, you idiot! _You're_ the one who made her come with me, remember?" He looked away, before saying, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing here. You're blaming me for this, aren't you? Well, I won't _ever_ allow you to make me feel guiltier, do you understand? You can't even begin to fathom how hard this is for me already."

"_How hard this is for you_?" Harry repeated, incredulous. "Everything just has to be about you, isn't it, Malfoy? You'll probably die once the world stopped revolving around you," he mocked, feeling angrier by the second. "You slimy bastard. You're more concerned how this affects _you_ instead of _her_."

"And that tells you what, exactly?"

"That you're-"

And then the realization kicked him so hard, the words were stolen right from his mouth. Harry stared at Malfoy, not entirely sure if he was serious or not. But seeing the other boy's frustration, his concern, his anger. "You're.?"

"Can we just stay focused on her?" Malfoy asked, raking his fingers through his hair again. "Please."

Harry blinked, surprised that Malfoy even knew that word. "Right. Right." But of course the revelation changed everything, and at the same time cleared it.  

Suddenly, Hermione let out a sound that was a half-word, half-sob, and then calmed down again. Harry pulled the blanket to her chin, noticing that it, too, was wet. "What happened?" he asked in a lower tone, consciously altering the topic. "Where's the food you said you were going to buy?"

"We got caught in the rain," Malfoy answered, looking at Hermione intently. "And that girl suddenly ran out on me. I was lucky I caught her when I did, because it got really difficult to see through the heavy rain." He shrugged his robes off and placed them on the back of the chair. "We didn't even get to enter the wand shop."

"So you didn't-"

"Potter," he started, "do you really have a point in asking me these questions? Look, I told you she needs to get-oh, damn it. Step aside." Malfoy drew his wand out and pointed it at her.

Harry stood up, looking at the wand and then at the Slytherin. "What are you going to do?"

"Step aside, Potter, or else I'm going to curse you."

"What are you-"

"I'm going to kill her." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm going to warm her down, you git. Your blanket obviously is not doing the trick. For the last time, step aside."

"If anything happens to her-" 

"I'd be more worried about something happening to _you _if you don't step aside. Now MOVE!"

Harry reluctantly stepped aside. Malfoy concentrated on Hermione as he flicked his wand. A thin, sliver-like red light appeared on the tip, and it struck her. A few moments later, and she stopped shaking visibly. Her hair, before weighted down by the water to the sides of her face, regained their usual bushiness. Even the blanket she clutched became dry. Harry was impressed, despite himself. "What did you do?"

"A simple drying spell," Malfoy replied, tucking his wand to the pocket of his robe. "Flitwick taught it to us in our first year, remember? I can't believe I never thought of doing it first. Must be because you accused me of being a pervert."

Harry ignored the jibe, and instead focused on Hermione. Though she was not shaking anymore, her face was still flushed. He placed a hand over her forehead. "She's warm," he commented. Harry touched her neck, and pulled back immediately, burned by the heat he found. "Very warm."

"A fever?" Malfoy asked, stepping closer to them. "But I. I don't know any."

"Neither do I." Harry shrugged. "I guess we have to heal her the muggle way, then. Get us some hot water and towels."

"You know this house better than I do. _You_ do it."

Harry was about to retort when Hermione moaned, the sound jolting them both. "Fine," he said, his concern making him agreeable. He fixed Malfoy a very serious look. "You make sure nothing else happens to her. I won't be gone long."

"I won't leave her side," he answered, looking very grave as well.

Harry nodded, before he left.

*

As soon as Potter left, Draco occupied the space he vacated. He placed a tender hand over her forehead, and felt for himself the warmth that was unnatural on her skin. "Stupid girl," he muttered, absolutely hating the restlessness and guilt that enveloped him. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness as well. He never learned, and even bothered to learn, any healing spell, but now he thought he should have, because if he did then she'd be off this couch right now, and maybe they'd be.

She moaned again, and became agitated. A hand wandered out of the confines of the blanket, and he caught it in his, entwining her small fingers with his bigger ones. Now the contrast was very obvious; hers was very warm compared to his very cold hand.

"N-no," she whispered, her head moving from side to side. "D-dr. n-no."

With his other hand Draco steadied her face. "I won't leave," he told her, feeling every word emerge from his very soul. "I promise." It seemed to calm her down, and for that he was grateful. He kissed her hand, and brushed from her eyes stray strands of hair, and then laid his fingers over her cheek. "I.I um, I." He couldn't go on. Instead, he crushed her fingers in his, holding them to him very tightly.

She was only feverish, but it felt as though she was already dying. 

And that thought scared him.

"Malfoy."

He turned, and saw Potter standing near them with a bowl of steaming water and a towel draped over his arm. Draco knew his moment of gentleness was gone, the façade he wore for so long now slipping back on his face again. "What?"

"Get out."

"I told you I won't leave her side," he repeated, slowly, deliberately. "Which part didn't you understand?"

"Malfoy-"

"Look. You might as well do what you have to do, because I'm _not_ leaving." 

The Gryffindor frowned. Draco began to think he was going to do something infernally stupid - like try to pry him off with his hands - and prepared himself for the attack. But the attack did not come. Instead, he walked towards them slowly, and stood at the back of the couch. He pulled a chair closer to him, and that was where he placed the basin on. Potter placed the towel in, squeezed it dry, folded it, and then placed it over Granger's forehead.

"Will that work?" he asked, unconvinced that something as mundane and simple would have an effect on her. "Will it heal her?"

"It'll help bring the temperature down," Potter answered. "But what she needs right now is some medicine."

"Where's Madame Pomfrey when you really need her," Draco muttered, absently running a thumb over her skin. 

"Actually she's. no, never mind."

"This medicine. you don't have any?"

Potter shook his head. "I gave the last one to Joey. He was sick about two days before you came in."

"Just another reason to wring his neck," Draco said low, wishing he could be alone with that kid. Five minutes, that's all the time he needed to do what was needed to be done. Thoughts of mutilating Joey still fresh in his mind, he watched as the other boy took the towel off her forehead, plunged it in the water, squeezed it, folded it, and placed it back. "So this is the way muggles heal their sick?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, they don't have the potions and ointments that wizards do. They only have pills, tablets, syrups, and these usually take longer to work. Muggles have to do their healing the hard way. I remember one time, when I was."

Draco looked at Potter when he trailed off. "What?" he asked, mildly interested despite himself.

"Nothing. It was just. nothing." He shook his head again.

"Fine." Draco shifted his weight, and then finally decided to sit down beside Granger. She looked. peaceful, and disturbed at the same time. Even if she was sick, it comforted him to see her breathing, so unlike the time when she wasn't. when he caught her, she looked like death. She went limp in his arms, not answering when he called, when he shook her, and that. that was. 

He never wanted it to happen again.   

Potter cleared his throat. "You um." He trailed off again. "You're. Well that's to say. um."

"Aren't you too old to have a stuttering problem?"

Potter stood up a bit straighter. "You really like her, don't you." It was a statement, not a question.

And Draco thought that his silence made up for all the answers he could have said.

"Right." Wonder Boy took a deep breath. "Right." He looked at Draco and said, "Maybe you should have a blanket too, you know."

Draco just shrugged. "I'm not sick. She is. And the towel isn't working. Why isn't it working?"

"What part of 'it takes longer to work' didn't you understand?  Give it time, Malfoy," Potter answered, walking away. "Give it time." 

*

A sharp noise made Draco open his eyes. He lifted his head off the couch, and then realized that sometime during the hours he spent beside Granger he had fallen asleep. He looked at her, and found her to still be sleeping, and the towel that covered her forehead now covered part of her eye as well. He grabbed that towel, folded it as neatly as possible, and placed it back on her head. But then, he thought that the towel needed to be dunked into the hot water first before it was folded. Wasn't that what Potter did? _Stupid muggle ways of healing_, he thought viciously. Draco looked at the basin, and reached over to plunge a hand in. It was already cold; a testament to how long he was asleep.

He looked at her again. Without thinking, he took the towel from her face, bent over, and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back," he said, not knowing if she could hear him or not. 

Draco grabbed the basin and headed towards the kitchen. The door was open, and he could see Potter as he stood with his back to the door. He pretty much blocked all that Draco could see of the kitchen. "I need this to be warmed," he declared, striding in. "Granger's-"

Potter turned, and that gave Draco ample opportunity to realize who were there with him.

He could feel his blood boil at the sight of his former professor, who he hadn't seen since the visit at the manor. Draco shoved the basin at Potter, uncaring that he spilled half its content on the other boy. All that he could see was the one who freely talked to Dumbledore, the one who betrayed him and placed his and Hermione's lives in danger. "What are you doing here?" he demanded severely.

Something in Snape's expression flickered as he looked at his student, and his tensed stance somewhat relaxed a bit. "Draco, what-"

But before he could say anything more, he was already pinned against the wall. 

"You told them, didn't you?" Draco accused, savagely pressing his hand deeper into Snape's throat, giving him no time to reply. "Because of you, we were almost killed, do you know that? We were almost killed! And you have no right. _no right_. to be here." 

Snape coughed at the pressure, but the cough came out more like a wheeze. 

He tried to pry the finger off his throat, but Draco knew his grip was like vise when he wanted it to be. "What are you doing here? You'd-"

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Potter grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him away from Snape. "Let.him.go!" Eventually, he succeeded.

Draco removed himself from Potter's hold, his eyes still fixed on Snape. "Why are you letting him walk in here?" he asked, addressing Dumbledore, Potter, anyone else who might be listening. "Are you all bloody idiots? Don't you know he's a-"

"A Death Eater, yes." Snape straightened his robes, and returned Draco's glare. "They know."

Draco paused. And then, with his emotions very much covered up, he spoke, hatred in his voice, "You're a bloody traitor."

"No," Potter said from behind him. "He's a bloody spy."

"Though I am not, technically, your professor anymore, I would appreciate it if you won't refer to me in such a derogatory manner, Potter, Malfoy," Snape said bitingly. He walked towards Draco. "And as for your accusation, I did _not_ tell them anything. Mrs. Parkinson happens to be a very keen woman. She's one of the more. prominent Death Eaters because of her intelligence, a trait not inherited from her by her daughter. I need not tell her anything, for she would have. and _did_. deduce it herself. Your act was not exactly the perfect crime, Draco."

Draco pursed his lips. The fury in him still ran like ice on his veins, making his muscles freeze in wanting to inflict pain. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" he scoffed. "Do you really think I'd believe she figured it out for herself, without, oh say, a traitor to tip her off?" He spread his arms out. "How can you even believe this man? For all you know, he's just tricking you into believing he works for you, when all the while-"

"He has been doing this for quite some time now, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore finally spoke, calm in his voice. "I can assure you that _I_ know where his loyalties truly lie."

Draco barely paid him any mind, and this seemed to have caught Dumbledore's attention.

"I see that a lot of issues need to be clarified," the Headmaster continued, rubbing his beard in a thoughtful manner. "You, Mr. Malfoy, must have a lot of questions to both Severus and I, and-"

"Not to you, I don't," Draco cut in rudely.

"And yet I can aid in answering those questions, Mr. Malfoy. And, perhaps, politeness would be a wonderful trait to demonstrate this time." Dumbledore turned to the three. "Now who would like to start?"    
 

**Author's Notes: **Snape's back! *jumps up and down* Hehe. Please, please tell me if Harry was acting OOC in this. I haven't read a D/Hr fic where he finds out Draco's feelings before Hermione's, so I don't have a model to follow. Please, please tell me, okay? Oh, and when I was editing the middle part of this chapter, I was listening to "Getting to Know Each Other" and yes, D/Hr came to mind. Deranged, I know. Anyways, thanks for the superb reviews, keep 'em coming, and see you next chapter!


	20. Broken

Abyss 

Harry quietly observed Malfoy and Snape as they all stood in the cramped space of the kitchen. He glanced at Dumbledore, and found him to be also intent in watching the two. Clearly, they were both waiting for one of the Slytherins to start talking. Harry, though, was adamant on thinking that Malfoy wouldn't speak first, so his eyes flickered towards Snape, silently goading him to get the ball rolling, so to speak.

The professor seemed to feel that the burden to talk was on him. He adjusted the neckline of his robe, as though it was suffocating him, before he started. "How did you get here?"

"They both just appeared out of—"

"I was under the distinct impression that I was talking to Draco, Potter," Snape said, looking at him with that annoying, belittling sneer on his face. The oily git. "If I were to speak to you, rest assured that I would address you first."

Harry barely repressed the urge to roll his eyes. Even after saving him from a near-death experience due to a choking death hold, it looked as though favoritisms still applied anywhere…

"Well, Draco?"

"We apparated," he answered, his face still tight. Harry could almost see the suppressed anger beneath Malfoy's passive expression, for he remembered it so well; that was the expression he wore when he learned Harry was responsible why his father ended up in Azkaban two years ago. "Is that enough an answer for you?" 

Snape looked at Dumbledore, his appearance conveying nothing out of the ordinary. But somehow, the Headmaster was able to read this, and he nodded. "Mr. Malfoy," he began, "would you like to tell us the circumstances that lead to the need to apparate out of your home? Severus mentioned to me that when he came to visit, you were perfectly content and confident in hiding your secret, and—"

"Oh he did, did he," Malfoy sneered, glancing at Snape.

Dumbledore stopped talking. "Politeness, Draco," he reminded, with a reprimanding tone. 

"Sorry." Of course he didn't sound sorry enough.

But the word seemed to have satisfied the Headmaster. "As I was saying, or asking, rather, could you tell us why you have to escape from your own house?"

Malfoy glanced at Harry, then at Snape, and finally focused on Dumbledore. "There were Death Eaters with my parents when they arrived from their trip," he said, looking as though he was very reluctant to talk. "Mrs. Parkinson was among them. She accused me of killing Pansy, and demanded that she see my wand. One of the other Death Eaters tested it, and—"

"Ah, yes, the infamous wand testing procedure," the Headmaster interrupted. "Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Malfoy. Please continue."

"Well, it's enough to say that my… guilt was evident after that. Mrs. Parkinson… she was ready to kill me, especially when she discovered that I was hiding Granger in my room at that time. So, I used my other wand to get us out of there, and we ended up here."

"Wait," Harry said suddenly, earning the attention of the three. "Hermione was… she was inside _your room_ all the time she stayed in your house?"

"Why yes, Harry," Malfoy said, fixing him a look of annoyance. "Let's get fixated at that really small aspect. Do you even want to know where she slept? Because I'd be glad to tell you she'd been sleeping _on my bed_ all those nights she stayed with me."

The desire to erase that sickening expression on Malfoy's face was very strong indeed. Harry could feel his fingers itching, burning for a punch or two…

"Now, now, Draco," Snape drawled, sounding very much pleased that the Slytherin was able to taunt the Gryffindor. "No need to share the more useless information." 

Malfoy turned to the professor as though he had remembered he was there. "You're a spy, huh?" he asked, sarcasm blatantly covering every syllable. "Well look at that. Who would have thought? My parents' best friend, a bloody _spy_. I take it Voldemort doesn't know?"

Harry snorted. "That's the whole idea of being a spy, you idiot."

"Harry," Dumbledore cautioned.

Malfoy glared at him, before he continued with his verbal attack. "So all those plans that were busted, all the attempts that were foiled, were because of _you_."

"And those plans that succeeded, like the attack, were those that were executed without my knowledge," Snape admitted.

Malfoy gestured at the Headmaster. "Then how come _he_ escaped? No offense, Dumbledore, but even with your abilities you could still be overpowered by more than enough Death Eaters. And as I recall, the whole point of the attack was to kill you. "

"None taken," Dumbledore assured him. "And to answer the question: Severus apparated into my office just in time to give me a warning."

That caught Harry by surprise. "But isn't apparating inside Hogwarts an impossible thing to do?" he asked, thinking how proud Hermione must be if she learned that he remembered a thing or two from reading _Hogwarts: A History._

Dumbledore looked at him kindly. "In the special circumstances that the situation held, I was allowed to make a few exceptions."

"Meaning?"

"Potter," Snape said, curling his lip in that usual, disgusted manner, "it saddens me to think that even after seven years of constant tutelage you still are an abysmal thinker. Though of course, not much was expected from you in the first place."

This time, Harry did roll his eyes. "Spare me the insults," he muttered low.

"What Albus meant was, because the knowledge that apparating was not allowed inside Hogwarts was very much widespread, no one in his proper mind would dare think of doing it. That signified that the Headmaster could, in fact, lift the spells that prohibit apparating every once in a while."    

"But it's stated in _Hogwarts: A History _that—"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, well, books are indeed very useful tools in reinforcing a fact already known to all."

Harry was quiet after that, thinking that Hermione would have a fit when she learned that not all the "facts" written in her favorite book were true… 

"So, any more lies in that damned book that we ought to know?" Malfoy demanded.

"We'll tell you if ever the need arises," Dumbledore returned, still cheerful. 

"Great," Harry said.

Few minutes of silence engulfed them. Then, very slowly, Malfoy asked, "My parents… where are they? How are they doing?"

Snape's expression turned grimmer. "I haven't seen your mother for quite some time now, and Lucius… well, as far as I know your father is in close association with Emilia. He hadn't disclosed any information to me about anything, for we haven't had the opportunity to talk in a long while. At least, not after I visited you in your house."

"But do you… do you know if they are looking for me? For… us?"

The professor was quiet, looking at Malfoy as if considering his answer. Then, "If they are," Snape began, "my guess is that they would be doing it in utmost secrecy. Your parents would not risk anyone, most especially Emilia, know that they are searching for you. It would only be logical to keep their every act to themselves."

Malfoy took that in with a nod, but the look on his face clearly depicted his apprehension and doubt at all that was being fed to him. Not that Harry blamed him; he knew for some time that Snape was on their side and yet he still disliked and suspected the oily git. He looked at Dumbledore as he cleared his throat.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster said gently, walking towards him, "you are entitled to doubt your professor, seeing as this is, most naturally, a surprise to you. But if I may say this, as I hope it will be of some help: before he knew of your presence in this house, Severus was the most agitated person I have ever seen. His concern for your well-being could never be doubted or questioned."

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked at Snape. He saw that the professor was pursing his lips, and looking at anywhere but at the Headmaster. Briefly, their eyes met, and Harry gladly returned the sneer that formed on Snape's mouth.

"You are in the presence of people who want nothing but the best for you and Miss Granger," Dumbledore continued, still with the appeasing tone. "Trust, Draco. In these times where treachery and deceit is rampant, I understand that it is the most precious, therefore the most difficult, thing to give. But this I ask you, to put your trust in me, to trust _us. _We would not fail." He placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder, patted it several times, and then headed towards the door. But before he exited, the Headmaster turned and said, "Harry, a word please." 

Harry understood what he was telling him. He quickly went towards Dumbledore, and together they left the kitchen and the Slytherins to themselves.

"How is Miss Granger?" the Headmaster asked, as they entered the living room.

Harry glanced at the couch, where Hermione still slept. "Feverish," he answered, a twang of concern evident in his voice. "We've run out of medical supplies, and…" Inspiration struck. "Maybe you can just heal her. You can do that, can you?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I have no such ability," he said, sounding regretful. "But Severus might have something inside his robes that could help her. He always does."

"Like a first aid kit," Harry said, defeated.

"Exactly." The Headmaster smiled at him. "Do not worry much, Harry. Miss Granger will rise from this, you'll see. She is stronger than she seems. You of all people should know this."

"I do," Harry quickly asserted. "But still, I can't help but worry about her… and the other students."

"Would you mind telling me the reason?" Dumbledore asked, inclining his head.

Harry mentally patted himself on the back. "You see, these past few days we have been eating nothing but bread and cheese. I think that's partly the reason why Hermione got sick. I was thinking… maybe…you could give us…"

"A feast?" Dumbledore chuckled again. "Ah. Then show me the rooms, for it is time the children have a taste of Hogwarts food once again, especially before they do what needs to be done."

*

_"Trust _us_. We would not fail."_

Dumbledore's words played in Draco's ears once again. He looked at his professor, and saw that Snape was watching him just as intently as he was. _Trust_, he thought, almost sneering. How could he trust someone he was raised to hate? And how could he ever trust again the one person who made him believe that he was the closest thing to a friend his whole family had? He looked away, still finding it hard to digest everything he had learned.

"How is Miss Granger?" Snape finally asked, breaking the pregnant silence.

"Sick," Draco answered succinctly, instantly on the alert. "Fever."

The professor inclined his head to one side, as if in deep thought. He then placed a hand inside his sleeves and withdrew something. "Here," he said, throwing it.

Draco caught it instinctively. The thing he received was a slender little vial filled to the brim with deep green liquid and covered with a cork. "What is this?" he inquired.

"Fusion of ginger root, unicorn horn, and beetle leg. It's an ointment. Rub it on her temples, and her fever would be gone by tonight."

He scrutinized the ointment he held. "Are you sure it won't harm her? Because, if it does—"

"It won't," Snape answered, his jaw visibly tightening. And then, he closed his eyes and breathed out loud. "I know this must be hard for you, Draco—"

"Hard?" he repeated, mockingly. "Oh, no. What made you think this is hard for me? You've only fooled my entire family all my life!"

"I can see," Snape said, looking tired and weary all of a sudden, "that you do not trust me anymore. Perhaps you never did. But that is acceptable, I feel. You would've never amounted to what you are now if you were too trustful of people."

"I wasn't raised to be one," Draco countered. "So forgive me if I am taking this _truth_ a little too difficultly, because it's not everyday I learn that someone in the little circle of people I trusted betrayed me." 

"I did not betray you." 

"You just betrayed everything we believed in."

"But wasn't that what you did when you saved Miss Granger, Draco?"

He stilled, the soft words and the subtle mocking in them shaking him harder than anything else in his entire life.

"Wasn't that _exactly_ what you did when you killed Pansy for her?"

"Shut up," Draco gritted out. "If you don't—"

"You dare accuse me of betrayal, but isn't this what you are doing right now? Hiding with the students instead of revealing their existence to the others?"

"Shut the fu—"     
"I want to believe I know the reason why you do these things," Snape continued, his beady eyes looking straight at him, like he was peering at his very soul. "But I very much doubt that _you_ do."

"You don't," snapped Draco, his fists clenched at his sides. The glass vial in his grip seemed fragile, but it bore his force. "You don't know a thing about me."

But Snape was definitely not stopping, his claws out and striking mercilessly. "You wanted out, didn't you, Draco? You learned the truth about being a Death Eater, that it's all about abiding orders, and murdering. You're too proud to stoop that low, to follow a halfblood. In the end, you wanted nothing to do with it. In the end, you wanted nothing but _salvation_."

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply, finding it hard to keep in control. "Stop plundering my thoughts, you bastard," he said low. 

"I never did, and I don't need to," Snape answered. "Your emotions have become too easy to read. Perhaps… Miss Granger's influence?"

Draco's eyes flew open, and he advanced on Snape. To hell with control. "_Don't_ include her in this," he almost growled. "Get out. Get out before I do something I'll enjoy and you'll regret."

The professor merely raised his chin, and for a minute their eyes met, a duel of will and resolve.

"All right," Snape said, finally. "I would leave. But know this: you are not safe here anymore, Draco. The only reason you see me is that I told Dumbledore I needed to inform Voldemort the location of Minas Deep. He begins to suspect my allegiance, and the only way to calm him is to make him believe I found the sanctuary of his enemies." 

That sure did change Draco's mood. Anger turned to alarm and, surprisingly, fear. "When are you going to tell them?" 

"Tonight. I advise you to prepare for an attack soon."   

*

"Soon is not enough," Draco said to Potter, after Snape and Dumbledore had left. "We have to know the exact details of this attack, if it were to come."

The rain outside finally abated, but the day had yet to brighten. And, given the late hour, it seemed like it never would. Draco told the other boy what Snape had said, and Potter confirmed this, saying that Dumbledore had anticipated it and already found a place to transfer that students. The aurors, though, were still busy preparing the location, placing charms and spells to make it as safe as Minas Deep. The students could not go there unless all was properly set up.

"How?" Potter asked. "It's not like we have contacts with the Death Eaters or something. The best we could do is hope they won't attack tonight so we could leave and head for Languid Valley safely."

Draco thought for a minute, his eyes just resting at Granger. Then, he stood up. He went and kneeled beside her, and retrieved the vial he had hidden in his pocket.

"What's that?" Potter asked, also standing up.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to question everything I do?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I do if it concerns her."

"If it concerns her, do you think I'll do anything bad?"

"Well…"

"Oh, just shut up, you idiot. It's an ointment. Snape gave it to me. He told me it'd cure Granger. That okay with you?"

Potter walked towards them, standing just behind the couch and watching warily. "Do it."

Draco opened the vial and poured some liquid on his fingers. It felt warm against his skin, and it had a spicy-sweet smell to it. He touched her temples, making two wet marks on either side of her face, before Draco gently but firmly rubbed the liquid on her skin using slow, circular strokes. Granger sighed, and inhaled deeply. She leaned towards his touch, and he found himself distracted, staring at her for a little while. Remembering they had an audience, Draco glanced at Potter, suddenly self-conscious.

"Will that work?" Potter inquired.

"It should if Snape wants to wake up tomorrow," Draco answered, recapping the vial. "But to be absolutely certain, you have to rub some on her forehead every once in a while until this runs out." He stood up. 

"Why don't you do it?"

"I have an errand to do." He handed him the vial.

"Where are you going?" Potter asked, taking it.

"Out," Draco answered. He walked towards the door and stepped outside. "When she wakes up, don't tell her I left."

**Author's Notes: **Wow. I've been doing this story for almost six months now! Woohoo! Anyways, guys, thank you very much for the awesome reviews. Some of you might be finding the pace a bit slow already, but don't worry; things are bound to pick up as we are now nearing the grand finale. I can't tell you how many more chapters to go, it's a surprise ;)

Do you guys watch Angel, the Series? I just need to vent. They killed Cordelia! Freakin' ME. I hate their guts. Augh. I was depressed for a few days when I found that out… sad, really. Grr. Arggh! 


	21. Relief

Abyss 

Draco never thought in his entire life that he _could_ be nervous and anxious about a thing as simple as going home.

He gripped his wand tighter, knowing that it was his only defense to whatever force he might be pitted against. Granger's words rang true in his ears, her cautions not baseless but had some semblance of sense and truth in it. Now that the entire Death Eaters knew of what he'd done, there was no stopping them, most especially Mrs. Parkinson, in doing what they had to do to catch him. It was plausible that there were several guards inside his home right now, just in case Draco was brave enough, or foolish enough, to come back.

And since he _was_ coming back, he wasn't sure which of the two he was.

The wind whistled beneath him, engulfing him in its arms, devouring him from head to toe. The scenery changed one slow, agonizing moment at a time, until the exterior of the safe house became the interior of his home. His room. 

Moving without sound but with haste, he grabbed everything he thought he needed: an entire armful of robes, the small sack of Galleons and Sickles he kept inside his drawer, and true to his word even Granger's nightgown; and shoved it inside a huge bag he took from his cabinet. When all these were filling the bag to the brim, he zipped it and was ready to go.

But before he said the words that were needed to perform the spell, footsteps outside his bedroom door caught his attention, footsteps that were heading straight towards his direction. 

Draco cursed, and looked for some place to hide. Apparating would be a foolish thing to do right now for the damned spell always left a popping sound behind and the last thing he needed was evidence that someone came from the room, or was even inside the room, when no one should be. He spotted the space underneath his bed, the mahogany quilts on top of it long enough to cover him. Wasting not any more second, he dashed towards it, rolled inside, and held his breath.

The door to his room opened, just as the covers completely disguised him.

"I told you," a feminine voice said. "There's no one here."

Draco looked at his left, and saw two pairs of feet just standing on the doorway. He thought he recognized the hem of the red gown; the exquisite flower renditions mirroring exactly his mother's taste. The other pair, though, he had no idea to whom it belonged to, but whoever it was, was definitely male.

"I heard something," the other insisted. Draco thought that voice sounded familiar to him somehow. "I'm sure of it."

"Would you like to have a look at everything?" his mother asked, using the bored tone masked as politeness that she always opted for whenever she was displeased about something. "Perhaps if you peeked inside every little crevice this room has, you'll find that 'something' you heard." She clucked her tongue. "Poor Victor. Emilia must be working you so hard you're starting to hear voices inside your head."

Draco froze on the spot, realizing two things at once: first, the other person in the room was Victor Crabbe, father of his very own minion Vincent Crabbe. Second: this man _would_ do what his mother suggested when he moved towards the center of the room. Draco followed the movement of his feet with wary eyes, knowing that if Mr. Crabbe were to decide to have a look around, then he would discover a certain fugitive hiding underneath the bed… 

Damn it.

Fortunately, Crabbe Senior's feet began making their way back to the door. "No need, there's nothing anyway," he spoke, using very much the same tone that his son exhibited whenever Crabbe dedicated what seemed like too little time to speaking. "I'll just be at the living room."

"Oh, please, do what you have to do inside a house you are _not_ invited in, in the first place."

The movement of the feet stopped. "Narcissa, I respect you and Lucius, you know that. But I can't disobey orders, and the orders said I'm to accompany you anywhere you go."

"Especially since those orders are from _Emilia_,right, Victor? What could've she possibly fed you to have you wrapped around her little finger, I wonder?"

Crabbe Senior snickered. "Something she's been feeding to Lucius too, I'll say." Apparently, to him his words were funny because when he left he was howling in laughter. Weird sense of humor, those Crabbes always had.

Draco could hear nothing from his mother, not a sound of her breathing or any movement. This meant she was thinking, or fuming; and whichever reason was not very good at the moment. Finally, the hem of her dress moved, and the door closed behind her as she left his room.

He waited a full minute before he rolled out from under the bed. Draco grimaced as he dusted off dirt from himself – _stupid house elf, not doing her job again _– he thought, when he remembered that no one was really tasked on cleaning his room anymore, much less under his bed, because his own house elf was dead. A twinge of sympathy – _perhaps, Miss Granger's influence?_– ran through him, and his eyes searched the room until he found the spot where Becky had died protecting him and Granger from the Death Eaters that time. 

And, just as he wasted a moment on his thoughts, the door opened again.

Draco instinctively lifted his wand and had it aimed straight at the intruder, when he heard her speak.

"You shouldn't have returned. Not for anything, Draco."

*

Hermione felt groggy, tired and unsteady. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were so heavy it was easier to keep them shut. All parts of her body refused to move, so she lied in there, prisoner to their will. However, a certain pungent smell was coaxing her to leave the realm of unconsciousness she was floating in, and join the land of the living. It was tempting to run away from it, to bury herself deep within the layers of dreams and fantasies she'd been having. Such nice dreams; those kinds where she got to spend her days roaming inside Hogwarts like she used to, with her Head Girl badge pinned on and her chin arrogantly up; where she could spend her lunch hour devouring different types of delicious food and laughing with her friends, all still gloriously alive; where she could spend prefect meetings standing beside a certain blond haired git who she was beginning to see and regard in a different way…

"Hermione," a distant voice called her, the sound twisted and obscured. It was the last push she needed to force herself out of sleeping.  

"What," she retorted, her tongue thick and distorted from many hours of disuse. "Not Granger?" She wasn't sure what she was saying for the words seemed to have rolled out that way on its own. Finally, she opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw were a pair of green things hidden beneath glasses peering down at her. "Harry," she said, realizing that she was inside the safe house once again.

"Hello," Harry said, smiling. He looked tired and weary – exactly what she was feeling – but he also looked relieved of a heavy burden at the same time. "How are you?"

"I feel like there are elephants sitting on my arms because they feel dead to me," Hermione answered. She considered her answer, and laughed. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"

"You're not," he replied, also chuckling. "But that's a good thing. I guess that proves you're human, just like the rest of us."

"You realize that only now? What was I to you, some type of god?" Hermione lifted a hand – a dead heavy hand – to her temple, and felt some sticky substance stuck on it. "What's this?"

"Ointment, though don't ask me what's in it. I think only Snape knows the answer to that. But what I do know is that it cures fevers instantly."

All feelings of grogginess evaporated when her brain digested the information he gave her. "Snape? Snape's here?"

"Snape _was_. He left about two hours ago."

"Why was he here?"

"Death Eater business," Harry replied, grim and serious. "Something about the need to tell Voldemort about Minas Deep."

"What?" Hermione demanded, sitting up. For a moment, her vision swirled into bright lights and hazy figures, and she was thankful he was there to support her. She blinked, and the swirling passed. "He's going to tell Voldemort about… about us?"

"It was necessary, and Dumbledore seems to think it was okay."

"Okay? How could it be—"

"You don't have to worry, Hermione. We're leaving this place at the soonest possible time, anyway. By the time they attack, we'd be long gone."

She looked around her, and frowned. Hermione wanted to ask Harry a question, but somehow the question remained unasked, and she was a bit hesitant to say it outright. "How did Malfoy react when he saw Snape?" she queried instead, remembering bleakly how he had acted when he thought it was their professor who revealed their secret to Mrs. Parkinson.

"He shoved Snape at the nearest wall, tried to kill him. You know, his usual way of bullying people." Harry shrugged. "I stepped in time to prevent Malfoy from taking another life."

She drew her brows together, instantly coming to Malfoy's defense. 'I don't think he's really meaning to kill Snape—"

"I was kidding, Hermione," he interrupted, though the seriousness in his expression had yet to belie his words. "Now Malfoy knows that Snape's a spy."

"Oh," she muttered, twisting her hands. Hermione brought her hand to her temple again, the soothing scent calming her nerves and driving her queasiness away. "So, this ointment… Snape just handed it to you?"

"No." Harry looked uncomfortable at the answer. "Snape gave this to Malfoy, and in turn he gave it to me. Hey," he said earnestly. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione frowned, trying to diagnose what she was feeling exactly. "My arms don't feel like dead weight anymore, and I don't feel that much nauseated. Wait, so you're saying that Malfoy gave this ointment to you to give to me?"

"Yes."

"So where's—"

"Hey!" Harry said suddenly, his whole face lighting up. "Dumbledore was here, too, and he gave the children a spectacular feast. There's everything – turkey, salads, potatoes, pies… are you hungry? I could fetch us some—"

"I'm not hungry," she said, dismissing the idea of food. There was something amiss, she just knew it. Hermione looked around her, half-expecting and anticipating his blond head to pop up out of nowhere. "Where's Malfoy?" she asked, finally spouting the question she'd been wanting to ask. "Upstairs? In the kitchen?"

"Um…" Harry began to fidget. "He's… around. But hey! How about you just rest, and we'll talk about this later—"

"Harry!" she exclaimed, annoyed all of a sudden. He was being evasive on purpose, she realized. "Don't you keep on saying 'hey!' to me! You're covering something, I know you are. Tell me."  

He was quiet, his eyes looking at her straight and strangely unblinking.

"What?" she demanded, after a few moments.

"I can't."

"What is it? What can't you tell me?" Hermione returned his gaze, reading on his face what he didn't want to reveal. "This is about Malfoy, isn't it?"

Now Harry glanced away, and refused to look at her. "He told me not to tell you…" he said low.

"And when, exactly, did Harry Potter become a crony of Draco Malfoy? Was I unconscious the time it happened?" She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Harry! Just tell me. Where's Malfoy?"

Harry sighed. "He just… left. Walked out the door."

Hermione froze in her spot, not wanting to believe the many implications his answer held. Something in her wished she never even asked in the first place. "Where… where did he go?"

Harry shook his head. "He didn't say."

"But… did he go out for a walk? Maybe he just… thought… " She felt out of breath, the muscles in her stomach cramping when she saw the dubious expression on Harry's face. Hermione remembered too well the last time she saw Malfoy; it was after they… after she… did he leave because of her, of what she'd done? "When will… Did he tell you if he's coming back? Is he coming back?" she asked, her voice very small.

And his answer frightened her more than before. "I don't know."

*

"Lower you wand, Draco," his mother said, shutting the door behind her as silently as possible. "It's just us. No one's going to hurt you."

"But Crabbe's father—"

"—is not here, and won't be coming back. At least, not now." Narcissa hesitated, then stepped forward. "Lower your wand."

Draco did.

In a second, his mother had engulfed him in her arms. "I was so worried," she said, hugging him tight. "I kept thinking that you'd get caught, that she got to you first and we couldn't do a thing about it…" She drew away, her face wrinkled into an expression of concern. She held his face in her hands. "I saw that you were safe, but I can't be appeased until I really _see_ you safe." 

"The mirror," he muttered, realizing what she meant. "You tried to find me through the mirror, didn't you?"

Narcissa nodded, rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs. "I saw you… walking in Diagon Alley. With… with…that _thing_." She shook her head. "It's not important. But you are. And as long as you're safe, then all is well." She smiled, and then stepped away, dropping all forms of contact between them. "Now leave."

The abrupt change in her tone was surprising. "Not without you answering some questions."

"It's too dangerous for you to stay—"

"I'm _not_ leaving, and if I'm to risk my life then I better get some things I need," Draco insisted, his stubborn streak manifesting itself. "Where's father?"

"He's out," she answered with a sense of urgency. "Doing business with Emilia; trying to find out if she's also looking for you. She is."

"Had Snape already told you about what he… discovered?"

Narcissa crossed her arms in front of her chest, her soft features becoming steely. "Of course he had. Minas Deep, he said. Clever Dumbledore, always hiding something from the other wizards," she said in resentment and distaste. "But how did you know about—"

"Mother," Draco interrupted. "I need to know. Are there already plans to attack?"

"Draco, why—"

"Just answer me, mother."

"Yes," she replied. "George is orchestrating everything, along with your father and..." Narcissa's lips curled. "Mrs. Parkinson."  
Draco breathed uneasily, knowing that his fear had just been just realized. "I have to leave," he said. "But one last thing, when are they… are _you_… going to attack?"

"An attack would be made tonight, and by tomorrow all the people there would be dead," she answered, and it chilled him how casual she sounded. "But Draco, why these questions about Minas Deep? Surely you're not—"

"I've been staying there," he said. "And now I have to warn them." Draco paused, and looked at his mother gravely. "Don't tell anyone you saw me."

*

Draco dropped the bag he held on the floor once he was back inside the safe house again. The first thing he did was to check up on Granger. Finding the sofa empty, he was about to holler her name when he saw her standing on the kitchen doorway, hands crossed over her chest and not looking entirely happy to be well.

The relief he felt, at seeing her awake, was unbelievable. The tense feeling he had been sporting inside his chest loosened, and his fears abated a bit. "How are you feeling?" 

She didn't answer, her face tight and passive. Using slow steps she made her way towards him, and just as she was closed enough Granger raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his cheek.

"That," she said, pointing at his bag. "I know that bag. I've seen it before. _In your room_. You went back there, didn't you? My God, you did." Her voice shook as she spoke.

"I had to go back," he said, conviction filling every word. "It was necessary, and—"

"_Necessary_?" she repeated, mocking. "That what? That you have new robes? Money? That's what's inside that bag, isn't it?"

"Granger—"

"After telling me, no, after _promising_ me that you won't go back, here you are, doing it. Breaking your promise."

"I didn't promise you I won't go back," he defended.

Her eyes flashed. "But you told me you won't leave my side, didn't you?"

"Granger," he said through clenched teeth. This was not the appropriate time for this! "Look, there's no need to be all emotional over—"

"Emotional?" she asked. "No, you don't know what that word is, Malfoy. You can't possibly know how it _feels _to be sick one minute and then worried _sick _the next. You're just a lucky idiot you're safe back here or else you'll know how _emotional _I could be."

Draco found out that he could afford to smile even under the extreme circumstances. "Come here," he said, grabbing her and holding her tight. "I'm here. Stop worrying." She wound her arms around him, holding him as much as he was holding her, and in this he found… relief. "I'm glad you're well and kicking," he muttered, knowing that inside he meant every word.

"I'm glad you're back and safe," she said against his chest.

He dropped a kiss on her head, and then drew back. "As of now, I really doubt the 'safe' part," he said, once again faced with the severity of the matter. It was easier to pretend everything was different when he was with her.

Granger frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Yes, Malfoy, what _do_ you mean?" 

Draco and Granger turned to see Potter standing at the base of the stairs.

He didn't waste time on shouting at the Gyffindor for his perverted way of watching them. "I found a Death Eater contact," Draco said, looking at Potter and then at her. "That's why I left. And from what I learned, the Death Eaters are going to attack _tonight_."

Both Potter and Granger registered signs of shock. "Tonight?" he repeated.

"The children!" she exclaimed, worry clouding her face.

"Get them," Draco ordered. "We have to leave for Languid Valley _now_."

**Author's Notes: **Darn it. First, Cordy dying, and then Angel gets cancelled? Ah, dang it. Anyways… thank you, thank you, thank you for the very gorgeous reviews you guys have been giving this fic of mine. I'm just feeling a bit sentimental because I just printed all the reviews, and as I read through them I can't help but feel both proud and bashful. Keep 'em coming, guys! 


	22. That Darn Kid!

Abyss 

Harry ran back up the stairs, with Hermione and Malfoy close behind him. When they reached the rooms they stood at different doors, but before Harry opened his, Hermione spoke with a definite quiver in her voice, "Wait. What are we going to say?" She looked at him for the answer.

Harry lowered his head, too much aware of the own shaking of his hand as he held on the doorknob. "We can't tell them the truth," he said firmly. "It'll scare the hell out of them, and we can't afford them to panic in this."

"So we're… going to lie to them?" she asked, glancing at Malfoy.

"We can't," Malfoy spoke, looking at Hermione and then at Harry. His face was dark and grim. "We _won't_. It would be better if we scare the hell out of them all."

"So you'd rather have them terrified?" Harry challenged, meeting his gaze.

"If they're terrified then they're bound to move quicker. That's how we want them, right?" With that, Malfoy opened his door and shouted. Hermione followed second, and Harry last.  

He saw that the children were surprised at his intrusion, with them bolting up on their beds, obviously aroused from sleep. Harry walked towards them and began taking the blankets off their bodies. "Stand up, you lot," he spoke loudly, taking the bedspread from Joey Garson. "We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Eric asked, rubbing his eyes with both fists. "Where are we going?"

"Why?" Marvin queried, though he stood up.

Harry looked at them, and knew that what he would say would definitely have an impact on these children. He'd rather not tell them what was really going on, but what Malfoy said made sense, he must admit. "Remember what Dumbledore said earlier, about us heading for Languid Valley? We're doing it tonight."

"Why?" Joey asked this time, still not moving from his bed. "I thought _you_ said we're safe here?"

"Death Eaters," Harry spoke, and instantly the mood in the room changed as the three boys regarded him with wide, terrified eyes. "They're coming for us tonight, and if we don't leave now we're going to die."

For a moment, the three boys looked as though they were struck dumb by what they had heard. Harry began to wonder if they're slow or stupid, or worse, both. Fortunately, though, Eric and Marvin awoke from their stupor and leapt from their positions to head towards the door. Joey was pulling on his shoes when Harry followed the other boys. As he stood out the door he saw that the other students were also flowing out of the rooms and running towards the stairs.

"Quick!" Hermione said, standing near the stairs and directing the way. Harry turned right, and saw Malfoy open another door and yell, "Death Eaters are coming! Run for your lives!" on top of his lungs. It was highly effective, as four boys quickly poured out of the room to join the pandemonium. 

Harry met Malfoy's eyes, and the Slytherin mouthed, "What?"

"Let's go," Hermione told them, and as quick as their feet carried them they headed towards the main door, and out of the house.

Harry lit his wand with an incantation, and instructed the others to do the same. He noticed that Hermione took a step towards Malfoy as he, too, lit his wand. Harry grimaced, and quickly took the lead, guiding the group towards the path on the right. The tall patches of grass around them looked threatening, much like the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, but at least in here they were confident that nothing would spring out of the shadows. Harry shoved leaves from his direction as he began to weave a trail away from the path. He could hear mumbles of protest from behind him, but he paid them no mind. Finally, after walking for a good fifteen minutes they reached a clearing, and stopped to take some breaths.

"I know I speak for all of us when I ask, why are we walking _away_ from the path? I thought the path was there so we could walk on it," Malfoy said.

Harry faced him. In the dimness of the evening he couldn't really see Malfoy's expression, but he knew the boy was mocking him. "That path leads to the other safe houses, and right now that's not where we're going," he answered. He turned to the other students, doing his best to reassure them. "Dumbledore told me the way to Languid Valley, so don't worry. I won't get us off track."   

"Three, four, five—" Hermione muttered, as she stood beside Malfoy.

"I thought you said Minas Deep was the one place where the Death Eaters couldn't find us?" Matthew asked, as he sat on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest and his wand lying near him. 

"It was," Harry replied, looking at the one who spoke. "But not anymore."

"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen—"

"How was it discovered? Wasn't it unpala… unplata…"

"Unplotable," Hermione corrected, though she was quite busy doing something else. She was moving from one student to the next, and then turning around and pointing. "Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—"

"Yeah, that," Raymond said, looking down at his feet. "Unplotable."

"We don't have time to answer all your questions," Malfoy spoke loudly, ending the small question and answer portion to which Harry was thankful for. "The sooner we get to Dumbledore's place the better we all will be. Now let's get—"

"Wait!" Hermione cried suddenly. "Wait," she repeated, counting again.

"Look, Hermione—"

"No, wait, I only counted twenty-nine. There are only twenty-nine of them here, and there are thirty of them in total, right? Right?" she demanded. 

Harry nodded.

"Someone's missing," she deduced, dread in her voice and in her face.

"Who's missing?" Harry asked, looking at the students. Though the light cast by his wand was bright, there were still shadows that cloaked most of his view in darkness. He couldn't see their faces, only their silhouettes.

"I—I don't know," Hermione answered. "Stand up, all of you!" she yelled, addressing the students. "You're familiar with your housemates, right? Can someone tell us who's missing among your group or your friends?"

The children pulled themselves to their feet, each looking at the others and trying to find out who among them was gone. Several moments passed, and no one answered.

"Maybe somebody slipped somewhere, or got lost," Harry suggested, trying to remember who among the crowd he was not seeing there. It was a _very_ difficult task. "Were there thirty of them before we left the house?"

She shook her head. "No… I mean, I—I don't know. I only did a head count just now. Oh, how could I have been so stupid! I should've thought of—" 

"We have to move," Malfoy reminded them, looking around him, on the alert. Something in his expression worried Harry.

"But we're missing a student!" Hermione protested, pulling at the sleeve of Malfoy's robe.

"Would you rather sacrifice everyone here for the sake of one student? Besides, it's just Joey," Malfoy said, taking her hands off his clothes. "We don't need him, anyway."

"Garson? He's the one missing?"

Malfoy turned towards Harry. "Yes. Good riddance, I'll say."

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder. She looked at Harry. "We can't leave him behind! If the Death Eaters see him—"

"—he'll die," Harry finished, his voice quiet but clear.

The other students were silent in accepting this undeniable truth.

Worry instantly clouded Hermione's face. "Harry…"

"I'll go look for him," Harry volunteered, already moving back. "I'll start at the safe house—"

"No!" she protested, moving to him. "You can't leave this group. You're the only one who knows how to go to Languid Valley, remember?"

"There you go, problem solved," Malfoy said. "You can't go back to the safe house and leave us hanging in here. I guess that means we're moving, then?"

Hermione shook her head again. "No," she said slowly. "_I'm_ going to go back for him."

"What?" Malfoy asked.

Harry raised his brows in surprise. "You can't do that—"

"Of course I can," she insisted, wringing her hands. "Just because I lost my wand doesn't mean I lost my sense of direction. Lead the others to the valley, then meet me here as soon as possible. I'll be as quick as I can."

Malfoy looked every inch as reluctant to let her go as Harry felt. "Granger," he said through clenched teeth. "I know Gryffindors are brave and heroic and all that nonsense but this is just stupid. You can't risk your life for a low-blood scum like—"

"I'm going back for him, Malfoy," she spoke firmly, her tone unheeding any contest. "And you can't stop me." Without another word she marched towards the tall foliage. In seconds she was engulfed in total darkness.

"Stupid girl," Malfoy said, shaking his head. He looked at Harry. "You have to move now, get them to safety," he ordered. "I'll take care of her." And he, too, disappeared, only the small light on the tip of his wand telling the others of his movements.

Harry looked on until the light disappeared completely. Now the two were on their own. "Come on," he said gruffly to the others. "We have to go."

He only wished Hermione and Malfoy could get out of Minas Deep before the Death Eaters arrived.

*

"Joey!" Hermione shouted, once she was back inside the house again. Her feet felt like leads attached to her limbs, and there was already a stitch at her side after running all the way, but she didn't care. She would never allow any more deaths to occur to them as long as she could help it. She would never allow someone she knew to fall into the hands of Death Eaters once again. "Joey! Jo—" 

Footsteps echoed from behind her. Fear reverberated from within her, making her tremble, and she turned sharply – only to find that it was Malfoy who did all the noise. "Why are you here?" she demanded, slightly out of breath. Her tone belied the relief she felt at seeing him. 

"Two things," he said, also stepping inside the house. "One: you're stupid enough to come back. Two: I'm not stupid enough to leave you behind."

She exhaled, walked towards him, grabbed his shoulders and kissed him squarely on the mouth. She was shocked at her own audacity, but she didn't care.  "Thank God. Thank _you_." 

He grinned. "Consider this my apology for leaving your side earlier, which I vow never to do again."

"Good to hear that, though I won't accept that apology just yet. I still would like to see you suffer a bit more." Hermione flashed him a smile. 

"Now that's very bad," Malfoy said, pretending to look dreadful. "Also, a little kinky."

She chuckled at his choice of word, gladdened that even in a situation as dark as this he could still make her laugh. "I know. Now let's find that darned kid."

They both combed through the house, not leaving a single crevice unchecked for signs of the Ravenclaw. Finally, they met at the base of the stairs, and as one, made their way up.

"Joey!" Hermione called, opening one door after the other and finding each one empty. "Joey!"

"I found him," Malfoy said, holding a door open for her.

She entered, and Malfoy followed inside. Hermione saw Joey sulking on a corner, sitting with his back hunched and his knees drawn up to his chest, trying to be as small as possible. His head rested on his folded arms. "Joey," she began gently, approaching him. "We have to go."

"I'm not going," he said, his voice muffled. "Why did you come back?" Joey opened his eyes and stared at her.

"We came back for you," she answered, uncertain but wanting to reach out and touch him. He looked so lost and defeated it was pitiable, and a bit contagious. "You know why we have to leave in the first place, right?"

"Of course I do," he said, resentment creeping in his voice. "That's why I stayed behind. I'm tired of running away. I'm tired of all this. If I'm going to die then I'm going to die, it's as simple as that, right?"

"Great," Malfoy muttered from behind them. "A nutcase."

"No one's dying, Joey," Hermione said, finally deciding to touch him. She grabbed his arm, tried to pull him up. Considering his height and weight, though, he was not one to budge easily. "Come on! We have to hurry!"

"I'm NOT going!" Joey shouted, standing and shoving her aside. He crossed the room and was out of the door in no time.

Malfoy was swift; he caught her before she fell on her back. Hermione instantly saw the incensed expression on his face, and she placed a hand on his chest to quell him down. "I'll handle this," she said.

"Are you sure? We could always leave him behind," he offered.

"No. We came back for him. There's no way in hell I'm leaving without him." 

She quickly followed the child out of the room, and she caught him standing near the stairs, looking down at the steps. "Joey," she tried again. "I know you understand the situation, and I know you're tired. We all are. But can't you see? We need you alive. We _want_ you alive. That's why we're doing all our best to ensure your safety, and that's why we came back for you."

"But why do we have to run away?" he asked, facing her. "Can't we just fight them?"

"Is that what you're planning to do?" Malfoy drawled, standing beside Hermione and crossing his arms in front of him. "Is that the reason you didn't come with us?"

"I can do it," Joey said, raising his chin up and taking his wand from his pocket. "I can fight."

"No you can't," Malfoy retorted crisply. "You're a first year. You don't know anything yet. How in hell are you going to fight people who know more hexes and curses than you could possibly imagine?"

"But Harry, he defeated Voldemort in his first year," Joey said. 

"Is your name Harry Potter? Do you have a bloody scar on your forehead?"

"No, but I can still do it," he repeated. "I'm in Ravenclaw. We know more than most people."

"Being in Ravenclaw, your lot is _supposed_ to be intelligent. You, on the other hand, sure give a whole new definition to being 'smart'," Malfoy returned.

"Joey," Hermione spoke again. "I admire your courage, I really do. But there's a fine line between courage and stupidity. I'm sorry, but what you're doing right now is just plain stupid. I know you can fight, but you can't do it on your own."

The poor Ravenclaw looked confused, and hurt. "I'm staying."

"Garson," Malfoy said, visibly seething, the vein in his neck throbbing. "Look, you idiot. You want to die? Fine. Do me a favor and go kill yourself. But as of now, you're coming with us. We risked ourselves for you, and we're not leaving until you come with us, even if I have to use magic to make you." He pointed his wand at Joey.

The Ravenclaw also lifted his wand and aimed it at Malfoy, but unlike the Slytherin's cool and passive expression the younger boy was shaking and perspiring. "I'll—I'll fight you," he said.

"Good. Let's see what you can do." Malfoy smirked.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Joey," Hermione spoke softly but with steel. She'd had enough of his pathetic heroic antic. "I don't want you to get hurt, but if Malfoy casting a curse on you is the only way to get you to follow us then I won't hesitate to let him."

"You first, Garson," Malfoy said, waving his wand slightly. "Cast your spell. Make sure you'll hurt me, because if you don't then rest assured that mine will make you scream like a newborn."

Joey gulped, and took a step backward. "Petri… pitri… petrificus tot…"

Malfoy yawned. "_Petrificus__ Totalus_. What a bore. You know the Unforgivable Curses, Jo-ey? Want to know which one I'm going to use on you?"

Hermione flinched.

"So, are we going to do it the easy way, with you coming with us, or the excruciatingly painful way? Oh, look. A clue to the curse I'm going to use on you."

Finally, Joey lowered his wand. 

"Easy way, then?" Malfoy asked.

The student nodded meekly.

"Good," Hermione said, smiling in relief. "Let's go."

Malfoy took the lead, walking to the stairs. He paused, then squarely hit Joey at the back of his head. But before he stepped down, he stopped again, and held a hand to the side, effectively blocking Hermione's path. "Wha—"

"Shh," he said, his face tight and tense. "I hear something." A few moments more, and he said, "Go back to the room, quickly."

She nodded, and as quietly as possible they went back to one of the rooms. Malfoy closed the door behind him with a soft _click_. "They're here, aren't they?" Hermione asked, swallowing nervously.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God," Joey muttered, paling.

Malfoy looked at him. "You want to fight, don't you?" he mocked. "Now's your chance. I hope you knock yourself out."

"Stop it," Hermione said, fixing Malfoy a look. "We have to figure out a way to hide ourselves."

They could hear definite noises and voices coming from downstairs. Furniture were being moved and tossed about, glasses breaking, footsteps echoing…  

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God."

"Shut up!" Malfoy snapped. "I'm thinking."

And so was Hermione. She scanned the room, trying to find another way to escape. She spotted the window, and peered out – there, below them, was a group of Death Eaters walking along the path towards the other safe houses. "We can't go out," she said low. "They will see us if we do."

"Can't we turn invisible?" Joey asked, his face shiny with sweat.

"You have a cloak we can use?" Malfoy asked, though he didn't look expectant for the answer. 

"No."

"Then shut up." He shook his head. "First years."

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked, moving towards Malfoy. She swallowed again, and took his hand. It was as cold and clammy as both of hers were.

"I—I don't know," he answered, squeezing her hand.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God."  
  


**Author's Notes: **I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for the wonderful reviews for the last chappy, guys! Keep 'em coming!

Oh, please know that I won't be able to post the next chapter this Monday. The most probable date would either be Tuesday or Thursday next week. I'm sorry, but as Chiara and Pippa (hi, guys!) know, my schedule is jam-packed this week so I can't type and edit Chapter 23. Sorry! But don't worry, a new chapter WILL be posted next week. 


	23. Absolute Shadows

**Abyss**

Draco pushed himself towards the door until the side of his face was squashed against the wooden panel. He frowned as he concentrated: the movements below them seemed to have ceased as there were no sound of chairs and tables being rearranged anymore. The Slytherin in him was still wary and suspicious, though, and he couldn't help it. Then, his eyes widened, and he hastily took a step back. "They're moving up," he murmured, his fears confirmed. He rounded on the other two. "Quick, hide!"

"Where?" Joey asked, frantic in searching for a space he could fit himself into.

Draco looked away and focused on Granger, not knowing how to answer the question. Inspiration struck him at the most appropriate time. He lifted his wand and aimed it at the Ravenclaw.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he demanded, taking several steps back and raising his hands to protect himself. 

"Malfoy!" Granger said, her eyes wide.

"Don't worry," Draco spoke, calm in his voice. "This won't hurt a bit." He made a quick gesture similar to the number fourteen, and said, "_Iva__ Halman!_"

A blue strip of light that emanated from his wand struck the student at the very middle of his forehead. Within moments, Garson was engulfed in that light and both Draco and Granger saw him shrink until he resembled a small potted cactus on the floor.

"You're a genius," she said, throwing him a grin and moving towards the plant. She picked it up and placed it near the window to make it look more natural and less conspicuous. Granger then paused, her eyes glued at the wall. 

"I have to do the same to you," he said, lifting his wand. But she didn't seem to hear him, as her face was completely blank. He expected some sort of argument from her, or perhaps even an outburst. "Granger?" he called, stepping towards her and lowering his wand. "Didn't you hear me? I said I have to turn you into a plant as well." Draco glanced at the door, the silence outside them unnerving and threatening to him. It could mean either of two things: one, that the Death Eaters moved out of the house and left the second floor untouched because they lost interest and got convinced that no one was in it, or, two, the Death Eaters moved out of the house and left the second floor untouched because they wanted to make the fugitives believe that the Death Eaters had lost interest in finding them. _Luring technique, _he thought, clutching his wand tighter. _As if I'll fall for that._ He was distracted from his thoughts when Granger dashed from her frozen spot and went to the wall. "What is it?" he demanded.

"A laundry chute," she answered, her eyes alight. She crouched and pushed a chair away, revealing a small door. "Oh my God, it _is_ here." Granger opened this, and peered inside. "We could hide in here."

He scrutinized the size, and found it to be faulty. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Are you mental? They'll discover us if we do."

"Of course they _won't_," she argued, looking at him. "The chute is wide enough for both of us. I used this before, remember? The space around me then was sufficient for two people."

Draco pointed at the chute. "And what could we use to hold on to if we do hide in there? I doubt that the Death Eaters would ignore ten fingers sticking out of that little door!" 

Granger narrowed her eyes at him. "You really ought to read more about neutral spells," she said, reaching out and snatching his wand away. She murmured two spells unfamiliar to Draco, and soon the insides of the laundry chute glowed pink. She looked quite proud of herself as these spells took effect. 

He rolled his eyes, peeved at her arrogance. "What did you do?"

"Just watch." She apparated out of his sight, and for a moment he panicked – until her head appeared _inside_ the laundry chute. Granger shoved the wand back into his hand. "Quick, apparate in here!"

Draco did. When he reappeared, he found himself beside her, standing on a soft _thing _that enabled them to be inside the laundry chute without sliding down. "What is this?" he asked in a subdued tone.

She reached for the door and closed it, engulfing them in total darkness. "No time to explain," she whispered back. 

In the silence of the confined space, he could hear the rustling of her clothes as he drew her to him, detaining her in his arms. As one, they lowered themselves until Draco was sure that even if the Death Eaters peered inside the chute, they would only see absolute shadows. He held her tight against him, and he felt her bury her face on the curve of his shoulder, breathing on his skin. He closed his eyes, knowing that even in this dangerous a situation he could still find comfort in the knowledge that she was with him, alive, breathing.

A few moments later, and he felt her tense, her limbs pressing closer to him, her breathing becoming shallower. He knew the reason; he also heard the unmistakable noise of the door opening, the sounds of robe swishing and footsteps moving. He sunk his face on the cushion of her hair, and kept quiet.

"No one's here," a voice said.

Draco swallowed. _Goyle, _he thought. 

"Nothing but a cactus," another said. "Nice cactus."

_Crabbe! _

"Come on," Goyle said, his footsteps noticeably louder and heavier than Crabbe's. "I have to tell father we found no one."   

Their footsteps resounded again as they left the room. 

Draco and Granger did not move a muscle as they lay there, intimately entangled in a mess of arms and legs. After a few minutes, he felt her tense again. She lifted her head from his shoulder, though in the darkness he could not see her face. "Do you smell something?" she whispered hurriedly.

Draco lifted himself off the soft thing underneath them, and pushed her away. He inhaled deeply, trying to detect something amiss – and the faint but distinct smell overwhelmed him. "Smoke," he said.

"They're burning the safe house!"

He tried to find her hand in the darkness, and when his fingers groped hers he handed her his wand. She understood his message, for a loud pop resonated within the chute and Draco found himself alone.

A moment later, and the door opened, revealing a face framed on the light that rushed towards him. She handed him his wand, and he apparated again, appearing beside her. True enough; the smell of smoke was stronger and more pungent than before. Draco pointed his wand at the cactus, said, "_Finite Incantatem!_" and instantly Joey Garson was back on his feet, albeit a little wobbly as he stood. 

"Let's go!" Granger said, running to the door. The two boys quickly followed suit. 

The sight that greeted them almost caused Draco to choke; smoke thick and concrete as white linen assaulted their senses as soon as they stepped out the door. "Granger!" he called, moving his arm to block his nose and mouth. She'd disappeared from his view as soon as he saw the smoke, and it didn't help that his eyes were watering as the fumes were stinging him. "Hermione!"

She didn't answer.

Draco had no choice; he forced himself to move forward and feel his way down, and as he reached the bottom of the stairs, through fleeting glimpses, he saw that flames as tall as he was were already licking the floor clean of any flammable material. He could hear Garson behind him, coughing and sputtering. Closing his mouth firmly and pressing his sleeve to his nose, Draco ran towards the door even if he saw that it was between two giant walls of fire. Fortunately, the distance he ran was short, and his movements were quick, so his robes and hair did not burn. He collapsed on his hands and knees on the path outside the house, suddenly, entirely spent. Intakes of breaths beside him told him Garson was out and safe as well. 

And Granger…

"Hermione!" he yelled, struggling and pushing himself to his feet. He could still feel the heat touching him, and he took a few steps back. The house in front of them was burning furiously as flames shattered the glass windows and reached out to the night. Draco took deep breaths, trying to cleanse himself of the smoke that had almost eaten him alive. He looked around, desperately trying to see if she was anywhere. "Hermione!"  

Grass crunched behind him, and when he turned he briefly closed his eyes in relief as Granger emerged from it, dirty, coughing, alive. "Are you hurt?" he asked, grabbing her shoulders and looking at her face. She stank of smoke and grime, but he didn't care. 

She gave him a half smile. "Are you?" 

He smirked. "It's not like a little flame and smoke could bring me down."

"Then I'm fine." Granger laughed. "You're dirty."

"Spoken like someone who obviously overlooked her own appearance," he quipped. 

"I know," she said, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe. Then, her face hardened, the smile on it disappearing. "Crabbe and Goyle are already far from here," she spoke. "As soon as I was out the door I tried to see where they were. I saw them head towards the other safe houses." Granger grasped his sleeve. "Do you think the others are already at Languid Valley? Do you think they know the Death Eaters are attacking tonight? We didn't warn them, I know we didn't!"

"Calm down," he said, stroking her back. "Dumbledore must have done something. But we shouldn't worry about them when we're still in danger ourselves. Come on." Draco looked back at Garson, who was still on all fours. "Follow us. And don't _ever_ make the mistake of staying behind."  

The Ravenclaw nodded, rising to his feet.

*

Draco allowed Granger to take the lead, but he didn't dare let her disappear from his sight again as they hurried towards the clearing. He didn't light his wand as he was sure it was going to call attention to them, and he didn't want to risk that. A few minutes passed, with them alternately running and walking, before they arrived. 

No one was there.

Granger became agitated, wringing her hands in front of her when she realized that no one was waiting for them at the clearing. "Where is he?" she asked, looking at him. "Where's Harry?"

Draco shrugged. "How should I know?" he said. "I was with you, remember?"

"Ohh… where could he be?" she muttered, walking away. She made several trips around as she walked in circles, burning her own path on the ground.

Draco looked at Joey, who was panting and had his hands resting on his knees. Turning so that Granger as well as the Ravenclaw was in his sight, he placed a hand on Garson's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Garson answered, still flushed and obviously perspiring. "I'm fi…yaaahhh…!"

"Good," Draco said, squeezing Joey's shoulder as hard as he could. He got a lot of satisfaction from seeing the boy writhe in pain, straightening his upper body and straining to get away from his hold. He stopped applying pressure, and the Ravenclaw scrambled away from him. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, clutching his shoulder.

"Make a scene and I will hurt you even more," threatened Draco, as he noticed Granger glance at them, her brows drawn together. He nodded at her, and she looked away again. He returned his gaze, advanced on the boy, and Joey shrunk in terror. He was not expecting his vehemence, Draco could tell. "Let's get something clear here," he said, looking straight at the boy's eyes. "Who saved you?"

"Y-you did," Joey immediately answered.

"No," Draco said, elongating the pronunciation of the word as if talking to a dumb child, which he obviously was. "_Granger _did."

"B-but—"

"Listen to me, Garson," he said, taking a step forward, his hands shoved in his pockets and his face a cold, frightening mask. "I don't give a damn about you, I'm sure you would've realized that by now. If I could have my way, you'd be roasting along with the other things inside that safe house." He leaned forwards until their noses were almost touching. "Aren't you glad it wasn't up to me?" He grinned. "She risked _her life_ for _you_, a worthless worm. Do anything stupid to have her do that again, and I assure you, you won't live to do another pathetic thing."

Then Draco pulled away, and began adjusting Joey's wrinkled and dirty clothes. "And, just so we understand each other," he said, smiling. "We never had this conversation."

"I saw him," Granger said, running to them. "Harry's almost here. Thank God, we're safe." She smiled at Joey. "_You're_ safe now."  

The Ravenclaw met Draco's eyes, and he nodded, his eyes traveling to the ground.

Draco turned to Granger. "We better meet him halfway." He took out his wand and lit it, and they made their way towards the Gryffindor. 

*

Harry paused when he saw a small ball of light moving towards him. Feet stepping on grass met his ears, and then the greenery parted before him, revealing a very dirty Hermione, Malfoy, and Garson. They were covered in soot, with Hermione's cheek colored to closely resemble a burnt wood, Malfoy's pale, pointed face blackened, and Joey's fat one darkened and smudged. "What happened?" he asked, moving his wand near Hermione so as to see for himself that she wasn't hurt. "Are you okay?"

Hermione shrugged that off. "I'm fine, but the Death Eaters, Harry," she answered, her eyes widening and filling with tears. "They burned the safe house."

He looked at Malfoy, saw the Slytherin's grim expression, and knew it was the truth. 

"Where are the others?" Malfoy asked, lifting his wand higher to cast light behind Harry.

"They're at Languid Valley, along with the other students," he answered, glancing at Joey. "We _all_ should have been there by now, if you weren't stupid enough to stay like that."

Garson hung his head, and said, "I'm sorry." Harry looked at Hermione and shrugged when he heard a very distinct sob. 

"There, there, Garson," Malfoy drawled, crossing his arms in front of him. "Stop being such a weas—er, wimp." He looked at Harry. "Can we go now?"

Harry turned around, and started walking. He could hear the others as they moved behind him. 

"How far away is it?" Hermione asked.

"A few minutes' walk," Harry answered, without breaking his stride. "It's not that far, but I was delayed because no one was there when we arrived, and the children refused to let me leave without anyone to watch over them."

"So when you left, there were already other people with you?"

He nodded. "Seamus and Dean were. They arrived a few minutes after we did. I heard from them that Justin, Hannah, Neville, and Susan were also to arrive, though I don't know when."

"I told you, Granger," Malfoy spoke. "You don't have to worry. We're all safe."

Harry looked back, and saw Hermione nod. 

Nobody spoke for the rest of their journey. Every once in a while, Harry would look behind him, and see that Joey was trailing behind Malfoy, Malfoy was right behind Hermione, and Hermione was looking at the ground as she walked. He then would return his eyes to the north, where sooner or later he was bound to see a huge oak tree with a hole in the center, the pathway to Languid Valley.

And as soon as he saw it, he exhaled aloud. "We're here," he announced, looking at the others. "We have to pass through this tree. It's the only way to get in. I'll go first, and do exactly as I would, all right?"

Hermione and Joey nodded. Malfoy just looked skeptical.

Harry pocketed his wand, and approached the tree. He placed a hand on the left, near a wide stain on the trunk, and pushed. A thin film of light emerged from that stain, and slowly the hole changed color and brightened until it revealed the houses in it. He removed his hand and entered. He turned around, and waited. Soon, Hermione came out of the tree trunk, then Joey, and finally, Malfoy. 

"Welcome to Languid Valley," Harry said, spreading his arms wide. 

"Harry!" 

He turned, and saw Neville approaching them, a huge smile on his face. "Hermione! And—" He paused as his eyes met the Slytherin's. Neville looked at Harry again, his smile disappearing and his face tightening. "What is Malfoy doing in here?" he demanded.

"Speak lower, Longbottom," Malfoy said, sneering. "I could still hear you."

Neville took out his wand so fast his actions were a blur to Harry. Soon, he had it pointed at Malfoy's face. "I'd kill you," he said, his neck becoming red and the holes on his nose widening as he breathed. "For all you've done—"

"Finally grew a pair, Neville? Ooh, I'm shaking in terror—"

"Neville, wait!" Hermione cried, taking hold of his wand and lowering it. "Don't do it."

The Gryffindor frowned as he swiped his wand away from Hermione's grasp. He aimed it at the Slytherin again. "Have you gone mad?" he asked, his eyes on fire. Harry had never seen Neville this heated before. "Why are you protecting this snake, Hermione?"

This time, it was Harry who lowered Neville's wand. "Because he's one of us," he said finally, knowing that sooner or later he'd live to regret saying these words. "He could help us get Hogwarts back, Neville."

Neville looked away, but Harry could still see the grim determination on his face. He knew that, given the opportunity Neville would carry out his threat.

Malfoy, though, still looked like he couldn't care less, and did not seem intimated at all.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked, clearly changing the subject.

Neville pointed at the house nearest to them. "The aurors are in there, as is Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Snape."

"And the children?" Hermione asked.

"Asleep." He pointed at a house with several rooms side by side. "In there."

"Neville, would you bring Joey to the other children?" Harry asked. "We're going to talk to the others for a little while."   

He nodded, shot a venomous glare at Malfoy, then took the Ravenclaw away. 

"Finally, he's gone," Malfoy said, pretending to wipe his brows with his hand. "Dying in the hands of a _Longbottom_, how degrading could that be?"

"Shut up, would you!" Harry said, looking at the Slytherin. "Neville's only one of those who wants to kill you, Malfoy! I'm very sure that if anyone else sees you, you'll get the same reaction."

"Yes, because it's my idea of a warm welcome to have wands aimed at my face!" Malfoy said. 

"Harry, Malfoy—"

"Look. Let's make a deal here. You stop making those snide remarks and I guarantee no one's going to point their wands at you. Agreed?"

Hermione snorted. "You're stripping him of his personality, Harry."

Malfoy glared at her, before he nodded. "Agreed."

"Wonderful," Harry said. "Now let's see what the aurors are up to." 

**Author's Notes: **Ah-ha! A chapter was posted this week. Next week, though… I'm not sure. I'm going to die by Sunday, because I wouldn't want to live to see the end of the semester, with papers, reporting, exams, speeches, THESIS DEFENSE… AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!! Huh. Catharsis. Nice. 

Please review? A few more chapters and we're officially done ;) You wouldn't want to miss that, would you? Hehe.

(Oh, by the way, I had to take down my latest fic because… well, I had to. Chow!)


	24. Convention

**Abyss**

Draco inched closer to Granger as they followed Potter towards the house Longbottom directed them to. Ridiculous as it might seem, he actually felt… _apprehensive_… at the thought of being surrounded by goody-goody Gryffindors and their goody-goody professors. _No_, he thought, shaking his head. Apprehensive wasn't the right term. More like _suffocated_. He bet he was the only Slytherin in this place. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs he could handle, but a whole lot of Gryffindors? Unconsciously, he lifted a hand and pulled at his neckline a bit. 

As if sensing his discomfort, Granger stopped walking and turned to him. "Malfoy?" she asked, her voice soft and tender. She placed a hand on his arm. "Malfoy, what's wrong?"

He feigned surprise at her question. "Nothing," he denied, looking away. He never really did figure out when and how he lost his power to lie to her. Before, lies could come from his mouth without as much as a thought. Now, though, things were different. At least, things were different when it concerned _her_. "What made you think something's wrong?" He glanced at her. 

She drew her brows together, and continued her somewhat analytical gazing. "You're sweating," she pointed out.

"I'm sweating because it's hot," he reasoned, wiping at his forehead for good measure. "And have you forgotten? We just came from a long walk."

Granger pursed her lips, and crossed her arms in front of her. The sight was both annoying and endearing, he must admit. Annoying because he knew she knew something was bothering him. Endearing because he knew that look was only for him. 

_Bloody bleeding hell, _he thought, scowling. _What in hell am I thinking? I've finally lost it. Or it's the fumes.  I've definitely inhaled too much smoke. Blasted fire. Oh, damn it. _Draco looked away, and saw that Potter had just opened the door and stepped inside the house, leaving him and Granger outside. "Stupid Wonder Gi—"

"Also, you're not looking at me when you're talking. And you're scowling, too. Do you want me to continue?"

He rolled his eyes. "And that's enough reason for you to suspect that—"

"Just tell me what's bothering you, damn it!" 

Her voice was so loud, Potter returned to them. He stood on the doorway. "Are you coming inside or not?"

"We are," Draco said, at exactly the same time that Granger said, "We're not."

They looked at each other, their eyes challenging, a battle of wills done without touch or words. 

"Better find a way to quickly settle whatever it is going on between you two, because I just found out that a convention is about to start," Potter spoke. "I'll leave the door open in case someone won in your little debate."True enough, when he went inside he left a small gap that prevented the door from closing shut. 

A few minutes leisurely passed by. He counted the times her toes touched the ground as she tapped her foot rhythmically. He counted the times he would glance at her, only to find her staring at him seriously. "Look," Draco said, waving his hands around impatiently. "Nothing's wrong, all right? I'm fine."

Though there were still lines creasing her forehead, and that mouth of hers pressed on a thin line, she nodded. "All right," she said, sighing. She was obviously reluctant to give up this time. "But you do know you could tell me anything, right? After all we've been through together, there's no point in keeping secrets from each other."

He smiled. "I'm touched by your concern, however unwanted it may be at this moment." 

She shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. Have it your way, then."

That was when he noticed a fine streak of soot on her left cheek. He reached out and stroked his thumb over her skin, removing the offending dirt from her. She kept looking at him, her eyes unmoving as he did. Draco kept his focus on his task, not wanting to entertain sinister thoughts the simple act was bringing upon him. At least, not wanting to entertain them _now_. 

_Damn fumes, _he thought, shoving his hands inside his pockets. "So can we go inside now? I could just imagine your housemates waiting impatiently in there for you."

She was quiet for a moment. "This is about that, isn't it?" she asked, voice soft and tender once again.

"What's that?" he asked, wondering just what she figured out.

But instead of answering, though, she smiled at him, brilliantly showing off her teeth. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't let them bite you. If you want, I'll even hold your hand when we go inside."

Her perceptiveness startled him, bringing a halt to all his thoughts altogether. How on earth could she have known what he was thinking? Draco blinked at her, not knowing what to say.

Granger chuckled. "Now you're wondering how come I know what you are thinking," she said, reaching out to tuck several strands of hair behind his ear. "I know you, Malfoy. Believe me, being stuck with you through all this time, I am confident to say that I know you inside out. Maybe in the future I could write a book about you. Do you think it would sell?"

"Like chocolate frogs," he said, basking in her humor. "But I really doubt that you know me that well, Granger. Maybe some day, I'll challenge that theory."

"Anytime Malfoy," she said, taking his hand and leading him inside the house. "Anytime."

*

Truth be told, Hermione was anxious herself. She glanced at her hand, which was curled around Malfoy's, and she found the comfort and reassurance she needed. She read somewhere before that holding hands was the most intimate act a person could do with another person without it being overtly sexual. She always dismissed it as some writer's technique of overdoing things, adding undertones where one should not. 

Now, though, she thought that writer was indeed correct. 

And just as she was entertaining these thoughts, she rammed them shut, not wanting to think more about things she might just be imagining to be between them. It would hurt her, not to mention _humiliate_ her, if she assumed too much, and then only to find out that in the end… _stop it!_

Hermione pushed the door with her free hand, and took in the sight of the spacious hall, as well as the people inside. As though on cue, they all faced her and smiled. Some faces she could recognize, some she could not. But the happiness she felt, at finding people who lived to be here, was a feeling that filled her up from head to toe and made her grin in pleasure. 

She squeezed the hand she held, and it squeezed back. 

"Oh, Miss Granger!" a voice said from her left. As she turned, Hermione noticed the deep green robes before it smothered her as she was pulled for a brief hug. When the person withdrew from her she was shocked to see that it was Professor McGonagall. The elderly witch removed her eyeglasses for a moment and dabbed at her eyes. "It is so wonderful to see you."

"Professor McGonagall," she said, her own eyes filling with tears. It had been too long, she realized. Too long before she saw another woman who did not look at her with contempt, who did not want to kill her with a flick of her wand. "Oh professor, it's good to see you again." 

Professor McGonagall nodded, briefly smiling. Her eyes lifted off of Hermione and focused behind her. Was it just her imagination, or did the professor actually pursed her lips and frowned? "Mr. Malfoy," she acknowledged, nodding. 

"Professor," Malfoy answered. 

"Oh, look at you two, you're both covered in filth!" the professor said, taking out her wand. She muttered a cleaning spell and all the smell and feel of smoke, soot, and fire deserted Hermione. She glanced at Malfoy, and found him cleansed as well. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he said.

"Oh, Hermione!" 

She spun to see Susan Bones opening her arms and hugging her tight. Hermione was surprised; it wasn't as though she and the Hufflepuff were _that_ close. "Hi, Susan," she said, somewhat uncomfortable. "How are you?"

"Oh, Hermione," Susan said, pulling away. Her smile was so wide it caused the tips of her mouth to reach her ears. "I'm so glad you're alive! I thought you were dead because they said Malfoy—"

The tears in her eyes disappeared. The Hufflepuff need not finish her sentence; the meaning was very evident. "Obviously I'm not dead. And, quite obviously, _Malfoy_ didn't kill me. Did you?" she asked, turning to the stoic boy behind her.

Susan blinked, looking back and forth from her and Malfoy. "No, right, I-I mean, I wasn't implying anything, it's just that…"

"It's just that, what?" Hermione demanded, her tone sharp.  

"Granger," Malfoy intervened, slightly pulling at her arm. "The poor girl was just saying she's glad you're alive." 

"Yes! Yes, that was exactly what I was saying," Susan said, nodding repeatedly. 

"Good," Hermione said, coolly. "I'm glad you're alive too."

There was a very awkward silence that followed the exchange. Then, the Hufflepuff mentioned something about needing to be somewhere else before she departed. 

Hermione shook her head. "It's so annoying how some people could just be so—"

"Look, it's Hermione!" 

She whirled around to see Seamus and Dean moving towards her. "Hey, Seamus, Dean," she said, smiling politely. "How are you both?"

"The question is, how are _you_?" Seamus said, casting a meaningful glance behind her. 

"You sure you're not under any spell from Malfoy, Hermione?" Dean said, taking out his wand and brandishing it around. "You know, all you need to do is say it and we'll make the smarmy git disappear."

"The smarmy git could hear you both, you twits," Malfoy said. He stepped beside Hermione and lifted their intertwined hands. "Does this seem to you like she's under my spell? If anything, _I'm_ the prisoner around here."

"Mal—"

"You better control that tongue, Malfoy, or I may not hold myself back and kill you," Dean said, squinting his eyes at the Slytherin.

"_We _may not hold back and kill you," Seamus said, taking out his own wand as well. "We're authorized to kill _enemies_ within our sight, you know."

Malfoy exhaled aloud, not looking concerned at the death threats hurled at his face. "Why is it that every bloody Gryffindor I know wants to kill me?"

"Because you're an evil, conniving, _dirty_ bastard, and the world could stand to lose another like you," Dean answered, his mouth twisted in hate. "In fact, I may just do the world a favor by eliminating yo—"

"All right, that's ENOUGH!" Hermione said, pulling her hand free from Malfoy's. She felt all her blood rushing to her head, and she saw red. "First off, thank you for your concern, but _I am fine_. Second, I'm insulted to hear that you think I'm under Malfoy's spell, for surely you both know I'm stronger than that. And last, I don't want to hear any one of you insulting or threatening Malfoy, do you hear? I may not have a wand but I sure do know ways to make you both feel cursed." She glared at her two housemates who looked surprised at her outburst. "Well?"

"Come on," Dean said to Seamus. He glared at Malfoy before turning to her. "Let's find other people who haven't lost their minds yet."    

"Aye," Seamus said. "See you around, Hermione. Malfoy."

Dean grabbed Seamus's arm and together they left the other two alone, disappearing behind a group of elderly wizards.

"You're right," Malfoy said, taking her hand again. When Hermione turned to him, she found him to be grinning widely.  "I don't have to worry about them biting me. _You're_ the one who's doing all the biting around here."

"I just hate it when people imply things," she answered, pulling her hand away. Her temper still badly frayed, she wasn't entirely in the mood to touch or be touched right now. "That's all."

"You mean you hate it when people imply me doing something to you," he said. When she glared at him, Malfoy raised his hands in self-defense. "I'm just saying you don't have to hide anything from me, Granger. I could read you like an open book too, you know. And as for the 'doing something to you' part—"

"Oh, do shut up." She looked away, feeling heat on her cheeks.

At that moment, Harry emerged from the crowd and joined them. "All right, Hermione?" he asked. "You look a bit shaken up. Do you want some water?"

"I'm fine," she dismissed.

"Potter," Malfoy said. "I thought you told me if I behave then no one would dare point their wands at me again? You seem to have forgotten your end of the deal."

"Why?" Harry asked, looking at the Slytherin, amusement on his face. "Who's been threatening to kill you?"

"Seamus and Dean," Hermione answered, crumpling her palms to fists. "I never thought those two were arrogant little gits." She got distracted when she saw Dumbledore step away from a witch he was talking to.   

"They're not!" Harry said. "Maybe they're just—"

"Shh!" she said, waving her hand quickly. "I think Dumbledore's about to speak."

True enough, the Headmaster stood on the center of the hall, and his very presence commanded the attention of everyone. "Aurors, professors, students," he began, looking around him. "I am very much delighted to see that you have all escaped from the Death Eaters, and are safe once again. Though we have outsmarted them, we must not be overconfident and underestimate the powers of our enemies. To escape them once is pure luck. To escape them twice is ingenious. To escape them thrice might be impossible to do." He paused for a moment, as if gauging the effect of his words. When no one spoke, he continued. "We cannot lie in silence any longer. We cannot let them destroy the world that every one of us has the responsibility to protect. That is why I propose that an attack be made as soon as possible."

Murmurs filled the hall to the brim, made by the people who, though expecting it, were not anticipating its arrival to be so swift.

"An attack?" Hermione repeated, echoing the word that was in the other wizards' and witches' mouths as well.

"When?" Malfoy asked, looking distressed at the announcement.

"I am not one to resort to violence when it is not necessary, especially since this war would include those whose years are not yet ripe on our side," Dumbledore fixed his eyes at Hermione, Malfoy, and Harry, "as well as on theirs. However," he continued, looking away, "in all things sacrifices has to be done. In order to achieve victory, much has to be risked. And in order to achieve _this_ victory, we must utilize the one advantage we have over our enemies."

"We have an advantage?" A wizard on Hermione's left asked. 

"Of course we do, we have Dumbledore!" Harry loyally defended. 

"We have the element of surprise on our side," the Headmaster said, walking in a little circle in order to talk and make eye contact with everyone in the room. "As much as we didn't anticipate their attack on us, they must not anticipate our attack on them. But aside from this tactic, we must employ everything, absolutely _everything_ in our power to defeat the Death Eaters. We must put a stop to the destruction that is reigning in our world!" A loud cheer greeted the last few words, Hermione's and Harry's the loudest of them. "We must put an end to the evil that Voldemort has unleashed upon us, and we will start with _reclaiming Hogwarts_!"  

At this, the applause and shouts from the audience were so loud, Hermione had to cover her ears to protect her eardrums from shattering. 

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said in an attempt to squash the noise down. "A plan has indeed been formalized, and I call on Severus to relay to you the important details of this attack. Severus?"

From the opposite corner of the room, Snape emerged from the crowd as though a shadow from a colorful garden. His face was unusually blank and his lips were not curled into his patented expression that made its absence all the more noticeable. "The plan to attack is relatively simple," he began. "We have decided to group the wizards and witches in this room in order to mobilize them in different areas of the school. A leader will be appointed to head each group, and that leader is responsible for the welfare of everyone beneath him. Each member's responsibility, in turn, is to follow the leader's orders and to eliminate all enemies within his sight."   

"Eliminate all enemies within sight," Hermione said, feeling a cold tremor pass from the back of her neck to the lowest part of her spine. She knew what that order meant, and that knowledge filled her with fear and trepidation. 

"Chosen through expertise and experience the leaders are: Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Sinistra, and myself, the Aurors Moody, Tonks, Arthurs, Sylvinia, Augustus, Garrison, Leon, Klein, and Smith, and finally, Misters Weasleys—"

"Weasley!" she exclaimed. The mere word stopped her from hearing the other names altogether. She turned to Harry and clutched at his robe "Did you hear? Weasley…"

Harry nodded. "I guess I never did mention it," he said, instantly looking sorry. "Bill and Charlie are here." 

Hermione felt her whole body tremble. "I have to talk to them later," she said, withdrawing her hold on him. "I _have_ to."

 "—and now that we know their names, it is time for us to know who among them each of us will be following. At any moment now your wands would glow and point you to their direction, as a name would emerge on it. But do not worry; it is only a spell, as we need all wands to be intact."

And, exactly as Snape said Harry and Malfoy's wands glowed. The word 'Snape' appeared on Harry's, whereas on Malfoy's a 'B. Weasley' was written.

"Great," Malfoy said, tucking his wand with a little too much force. "Now I'm to follow a Weasley."

"At least you have someone to follow," Hermione spoke. "But there's absolutely no way in hell that I'm going to be left behind in this."

Harry opened his mouth in protest. "Hermione—"

"You have to be," Malfoy said, looking very grave. "Granger, this is a bloody war. Those with wands are still likely to die, and those without wands are going on a damned suicide mission. There's _absolutely no way in hell_ that I'm going to let you go."

"But—"

"I'm afraid I would have to side with Mr. Malfoy on this one, Miss Granger."

She turned to find Dumbledore on their side. "Professor!" she said, not missing the relieved expression on Malfoy's face. "I know I don't have a wand, but please, give me a chance! I could fight!"

The Headmaster smiled at her. "I know you very well could," he said. "Your knowledge and abilities would be very invaluable to us, Miss Granger. That is why…" He fished out a wand from his robe, and handed it to her. "…when I saw this wand I thought of you immediately. It seemed to be crafted only for your use."

With shaking hands Hermione took the wand. It seemed to be the perfect replica of her lost wand; from the size down to the rough edges that stuck out when she held it. "I…I don't know what to say," she said. "This… this feels like my wand, but I… I lost mine so long ago…"

"It _is _your wand," Dumbledore told her.

She looked at him. "How could it be? Mine was left at Hogwarts…"

"Well," the Headmaster said, smiling and tossing a meaningful glance at Malfoy. "Not everyone that shops at Vandel's is a follower of the Dark Lord."

"Well congratulations, Granger. Now we _all_ get to die. I have a question," Malfoy said, turning to Dumbledore. "We've all been told about the leaders and all, but I still don't know when we are going to attack."

Dumbledore nodded at Snape. "Severus is just about to reveal that."

"—I don't need to tell you the severity of the situation, seeing that you have seen for yourselves how much everything changed around us. A fight calls to us, and this call we cannot ignore any longer. Therefore, with the permission of our Headmaster, as well as the consent of all the leaders appointed tonight, I say that the attack would be done… _tomorrow evening_."  
  


  
 

**Author's Notes: **I hope you enjoyed that chapter! Anyways, thank you all so much for reading (and waiting for) this story, as well as the warm welcome that you gave my story 'Divine Humiliation.' I must admit, the varied reactions to that story was entertaining, and it seems that some of you wanted a sequel or a follow-up to that… there would be, I swear! It might come before, during, or after the end of Abyss, but it would be coming out. Actually, I'm writing it down now… ;) Thank you very much again, and I hope to see you next chapter! (Chiara, seems as though you won!) ;p


	25. Pretenses

Abyss 

Languid Valley was silent and desolate that night. After the convention had ended, the wizards and witches retreated to their sleeping quarters in order to muster the strength they needed for the attack. Potter guided Draco and Granger towards a small hut a few houses away from the hall. As they were walking, Potter relayed how he was able to acquire this hut just for the three of them and true enough inside the small house were three separate bedrooms. Potter claimed the middle room instantly and stood in front of its door, which left Draco to opt for the room nearest to the exit, and Granger the farthest room from it. She seemed tired and weary, and didn't even respond to her friend's "Good night." After she closed the door behind her, Draco followed her action and went inside his room as well. 

He had never been so grateful to see a bed in his entire life, but odd as it were, some part of him didn't feel quite as joyous as he would have wanted. As he sat on the edge of the bed exhaustion, fatigue, and lethargy filled his senses, making him drunk with the sudden desire to sleep. But soon he found out that sleep was very elusive that night. He twisted, turned, even fluffed the pillow beneath his head, but to no avail. He was sleepy, be he couldn't sleep a wink. He was comfortable, but he couldn't find for himself a comfortable position to sleep in. 

_Ah, hell.      _

He needed a walk. Draco pushed himself out of bed and opened his door, only to find Granger about to knock on it. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her, and she blinked a few times before lowering her fist to her side.

He tried to smile at her, felt the tips of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. "Couldn't sleep?"

Slowly, she shook her head. 

"Let's step outside," he told her, and closed the door behind him. Together they made it out of the hut and into the dark, eerie night. 

Silent and desolate, Languid Valley could have been a refuge for peace and quiet hadn't it been used solely for the purpose of a hideout. The trees were quiet as the wind tousled their leaves; the sky still as the moon shone ever so brightly. The evening would have been an interesting piece for conversation between them if she wasn't so bloody speech deprived. Draco studied her, and the knowledge struck him: he knew, in an instant, that something was wrong. He knew it just by looking at her: at her drooping shoulders, at her faltering steps, at her twitching mouth. Draco stopped walking and turned to her. "Granger?" 

She paused, but aside from that he got no reply. He tried again. "Hermione?" This time, he clasped her hand, and found her palm cold and clammy. Understanding dawned on him. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and he knew why: Granger was scared, and because of this she was ashamed. 

"Hey," he said low, pulling her to him and kissing her on the forehead. "You don't have to be scared."

She hugged him tight in response, winding her hands at the base of his spine and resting her forehead on his chest. "Whoever said I am?"

He grinned. "I do," he said. "And don't make me point out all the details to you. You know you are."

Granger drew a deep, shaky breath and expelled it in a warm whoosh that he felt even through his clothes. "I am," she muttered. "Oh God, I am."

Draco took her hands off his waist and held them to his chest. She still wouldn't meet his eyes, keeping her gaze locked at their hands instead. "Look at me."

She kept her head bowed low.

"Look. At. Me."

Slowly, hesitantly, she did. He found that her eyes were drowning in tears that flooded them, and her lower lip was bitten between her teeth. This was a side to Hermione Granger he never knew existed, and all the more endeared her to him: he was familiar with her pride, but not with her frailty. 

And he was looking at it now.

"You don't have to be scared," he said. "More importantly, you don't have to be ashamed of being scared. Not with me."

"Oh," she scoffed, smiling a little. "Not with you?"

"Okay," he admitted, giving her back a smile. "Maybe if all these things _never_ happened I would have had a field day knowing that you, the unflappable Gryffindor, was scared of something, but now… don't you realize that you can be honest with me? No more pretenses, Hermione."

Tears slid down her cheeks, one slow drop at a time, leaving wet trails on their wake. "I can't believe this," she whispered, her voice tiny and tortured. "Do you realize what we're going to do?"

"Don't you think I do?"

"We're going to war," she said, as though he hadn't spoken. "We're going to attack and we might _kill_ someone. I… I don't think… I don't think I can do that. I don't think I'm ready for that—"

Draco cupped her chin. "You could never be," he soothed. "No one could _ever_ prepare themselves at the prospect of killing someone…. unless you're a soulless, evil bastard, that is. But then… do we have any other choice? As Dumbledore said—"

"—I _know_ what Dumbledore said," she cut in, pulling his hands away from her face and winding them with hers. Granger looked at him in the eye. "You could be facing your parents at war," she pointed out. "Aren't you scared of _that_?" 

He looked away.

"No more pretenses, Draco," she spoke, mocking him. 

"I'm not pretending," he answered, glancing at her with his lips pressed tight. "I'm _not_ scared. It's enough that _you_ be scared for both of us."

She was wise enough to not pursue the topic, and he was grateful for that. She squeezed his hands, and he fixed his attention at her. "Promise me," she said, her eyes looking straight at his. "Promise me we'll stick together."

He smiled. Now _this_ he could answer directly. "You really can't do anything to pry me off your side, even if you tried." Still reading the worry and anxiety in her eyes, Draco raised her two hands and brushed a kiss over each of her fingers. "I won't leave you," he spoke softly. "I never will. I promise."

After this pronouncement, silence reigned between them. He watched her as mutely and intently as she watched him. Granger blinked, then very slowly, a smile returned to her lips, wider, fuller, lovelier. "You've changed." 

Draco chuckled. "So I've noticed." He rested his forehead over hers, pushing her head back a little as he did. "It's hard not to, when I'm spending most of my time with you." He released her hands and stroked his thumbs across the pads of her cheeks. "You and your stupid Gryffindor traits are rubbing off on me, you know. Bad influence you turned out to be."

She did not speak for a minute, and appraised him with her eyes. Then, in a very small, very frightened voice she said, "I…I know this isn't the most appropriate time or place, but if I don't say it then I might just spend the rest of my life wondering what if I _did_—"

"You're rambling."  

Granger stepped away from him, and he wondered briefly if he'd offended her. She created a hefty amount of distance between them, and she fidgeted. Then, as if wholly decided, she faced him. "Malfoy, I…"

"You…?" he coaxed.

She stiffened a bit, standing ramrod straight for a moment before blurting out, "I… I care for you, all right? There. I've said it."

Draco had difficulty in keeping his face neutral. He looked at her, not moving, speaking, or even breathing at all.

"Say something," she pleaded, her eyes filling once again.

His throat had become dry as dust, but he managed to speak. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, and watched as her face fell. "You told me you care for me. I think it's a wee bit unfair, when all this time… I don't just _care_ for you, Granger." Draco closed the distance between them in two strides, cupped her face, and rested his lips over hers. "I love you, _Hermione_," he mumbled.

He felt her lips widen in response, before he formally claimed her mouth in a kiss. 

When she pressed closer to him, when she laid her hands behind his head, he could feel his nervousness slowly ebbing from him. For a moment, just for a moment, before he kissed her he thought she would run away again, leave him burning. Now, though, she wasn't leaving. In fact, Hermione was giving him as much as he was giving her: a kiss for a kiss, a touch for a touch, a feathery breath for another. Draco moved his hands from her jaw down to her hands as he slanted his mouth over hers. He heard a moan, a soft, guttural sound that made him tremble. One last kiss, one last stroke of her lips on his, before he moved away. 

She opened her eyes, and even in the darkness he saw how vivid her orbs had become. Hermione reached for him, and placed a tender kiss over his forehead, his nose, and finally, on his lips. "I love you too," she said. She rested her head on his chest. "But this is so unfair. We might die tomorrow, and—"

"_Au contraire, _Granger," he said, encircling her in his arms. "_This_ is just what we need to keep ourselves from dying tomorrow. A motivation, if you will. You do realize that, don't you?"

"You're right," she said, after a moment's thought. 

"I always am," he said with a hint of smugness, and full of happiness. "Took you long enough to tell me you love me."

She hit him on the chest. "Git."

"And yet… you love me."

She chuckled. "Unfortunately." 

He guided her back to their sleeping quarters, thinking that; maybe this time sleep would come easier for both of them. 

It did.

*

Harry awoke just after the sun dawned that day. He leapt to his feet and went out of his room, intent on getting something to eat. He contemplated on knocking at Hermione's door to ask her to come join him, but thought better of it – she might still be asleep. 

He passed by Malfoy's door with no intention of asking him for breakfast whatsoever. But Harry found out he didn't need to – in the hall, where breakfast was served, he saw Hermione and Malfoy on a corner together, talking and laughing like they had not a care in the world. Their proximity bugged Harry to no end, but he deemed it best to not meddle in something that wasn't his business in its entirety – he cared for Hermione; hell, he loved her. But if _Malfoy_ was making her happy, then he shouldn't get in the way of her happiness.

At least, that was what he kept saying to himself. 

"Morning," Neville greeted Harry after he joined him, Seamus, and Dean in their table to eat his breakfast. 

"Morning," he greeted back, and nodded at the silent duo. 

"So," Neville said, "we were just talking about who our leaders were. Who did you get, Harry?"

Harry scowled. "Snape." 

"Lucky you," Dean said, then chuckled at the dark look Harry sent him. "I got Tonks."

"Sprout," volunteered Seamus.

"Klein, though I have absolutely no idea who he is," Neville added. 

"You will." Dean pointed at him with his bread. "I heard later this afternoon we'll have a briefing with our respective leaders." 

"I wonder what we're going to do, though," Seamus said over a bite of his apple. "I mean, of course I know a lot of spells, but—"

"I think it's pretty obvious what we're going to do once we get inside Hogwarts," Harry interrupted. "We're going to purge the school of all Death Eaters, and—"

"No, I mean, of course I know _that_," Seamus continued, looking annoyed. "I meant are we allowed to use the…" He looked around, leaned forward, and said in a considerably lower voice, "…the _Unforgivable _Curses."

Dean and Neville were shocked at this, obviously not anticipating Seamus' train of thought. Harry munched on his bread thoughtfully. 

"Are you insane?" Neville sputtered. "Do you want to end up in Azkaban?"

"But those are the most powerful spells there are!" Seamus argued. "I mean, come on, if you want to live, won't you use the _cruciatus_ _curse_ or even the _killing curse_ to get rid of your opponents?"

Dean shook his head. "There has to be other more potent - and _safer_ – alternatives." 

"This is a bloody _war_!" Seamus said empathically, pounding his fist on the table for good measure. "It's _kill_ or _be killed_! Do you think the Death Eaters are going to think twice on using those same spells on you?"

"Seamus—"

"I think he's right," Harry finally said. Three heads whipped to look at him. "The difference about us and Death Eaters is that they won't hesitate to do everything to eliminate their enemies. We, on the other hand, _are afraid of being sent to prison_. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"So… you're… going to use those spells?" Neville asked. 

"I already did, once," Harry said, thinking of the event that happened in his fifth year. "And I didn't end up in Azkaban did I? If it's for self-defense then I've no problem with it."

"Besides," Seamus said with a flourish, "I distinctly remember Dumbledore saying that we must 'employ everything in our power to defeat the Death Eaters'. I say _that's_ permission enough to use the Unforgivable Curses." 

"Do you even know how to use them?" Dean challenged him. 

"Err…" At this, Seamus turned scarlet. "I was thinking maybe I could get Hermione to teach me."

Harry regarded him with a frown. "And what made you think that Hermione_ knows_ how to use them?"

"Well," he said, a tad defensive. "She's the most intelligent witch in our year, right? She's bound to know about those curses. And…"

"…and?" Harry prodded, already thinking he wouldn't like what the other boy was going to say.

He was right. "And she's been hanging with Malfoy, right? I'd bet anything that, if she didn't learn it from books then _he_ must've taught it to her."

"Or probably used one on her as we speak," Dean added. 

Anger at their insinuations filled Harry's senses, making him purse his lips together a bit too tight. He glared at Seamus and Dean, who were both wearing uncertain looks on their faces. 

"Harry?" Neville spoke.

"Not that I'm implying anything, Harry—"

"Of course you're _not_."  

Dean inched his chin upwards. "It's just that I think it's a bit alarming and, dare I say, _suspicious,_ that Malfoy switched sides just like that. I mean, he _is_ the son of two Death Eaters so chances are, he already _is_ one."

"Don't blame it all on us, mate," Seamus said. "We're not the only ones confused about him being here. He was practically the topic of the every conversation last night! I mean, come on, Harry! His being the only Slytherin around here should tell you something!"

"Snape's a Slytherin," Harry returned calmly. "How come you're not suspecting him?"

"He's a spy for us!" Seamus answered. "He's good!" 

"And Malfoy's not?" Harry asked, then bit his tongue. Of course Malfoy _wasn't_, but that's not the point. "Malfoy saved Hermione more times than I could count," he said instead, changing tactics. "That's _good enough_ for me." 

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. "What could've the smarmy git fed you and Hermione to take his side? Look, all we're saying is that we should be careful around Malfoy. For all we know, he might be relaying our every move to his parents, and it always pays well to be prepared."

Neville cradled his head on his hands. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

Harry looked at Dean, and saw the unmovable resoluteness on his face. "I see your point," he admitted. "But I hope you'd also see mine."

"And what _was_ your point?" Seamus asked him, a tinge of mockery in his voice. 

"That not every Slytherin is evil," Harry answered, turning to him. "That some people _could_ change, and some people _did_." He stood up and left the table.

Now _here_ was irony if Harry ever saw one! He never thought that he'd be one to defend a _Slytherin_ to his fellow Gryffindors. But no, in its entirety he wasn't defending Malfoy. Not _really_. In truth, he was doing this for Hermione. He knew that comments from those arrogant prats against Malfoy would hurt her deeply, and so, by squashing those two he was merely protecting his friend's sake. He was protecting Malfoy _because of _Hermione. 

At least, that was what he kept saying to himself. 

*

"Remember, in third year, when you slapped me?"

"Oh how could I not? It was one of my greatest accomplishments _ever_. You have to admit, though, you deserved it for being such an arrogant pig." 

"Hmm? My cheek being intimately acquainted with your palm? I most certainly do, though in the future I _do_ plan to be intimately acquainted with your _other parts_ as well."

She blushed at that.

Hermione felt that she was having the best hours of her life, freely talking with Malfoy like this, without reservations, without shame or hypocrisy. She could even forget that, in a few hours time another war was to be waged, and that this time she was involved in it… the smile drooped from her face, and she was only too aware of it.

"You're thinking about the war again," he told her, with a smirk that told her he knew he was right. 

"Oh, how could I not?" she repeated, turning somber. "It's not like I've been to war before, so I don't really know how or what I should feel right before one."

"We still have a few hours," Malfoy said, smiling at her. He took her hand. "Can't you forget it for a little while longer?"

"Can you?" 

He was quiet. "We could at least pretend we can."

"I thought no more pretenses?" Hermione said. She pushed her plate away, and then took out her wand. She frowned. "I was expecting a name should have emerged on this sooner or later. I guess I was wrong."  

"Maybe your wand doesn't want you to go to war, and I don't blame it."

She rolled her eyes. "Malfoy—"

"Oh, all right," he said. "Do you want to go to Dumbledore? Maybe you could ask him what's wrong with your wand." 

Hermione nodded. "I was thinking of that," she admitted. She turned around, her eyes looking for the familiar face of their Headmaster – when a more familiar _color_ attracted her attention. "I'll be right back." She stood up and made her way to the two redheads in the middle of the room. "Bill, Charlie," she called. The Weasleys looked up. 

They looked far older and more haggard than Hermione ever remembered them to be. Bill's hair was savagely rumpled and short, and Charlie's was severely cut just about a millimeter away from his scalp. But what else could've been more striking than the look of pain on their faces? She immediately felt sympathy for them. Losing a sibling must be horrible enough… but _two_?

"Hello, Hermione," Bill said, flashing her a quick, wan smile. 

"How are you?" Charlie asked politely. "Have a seat."

She did. "I'm fine," she answered. Then she looked at her hands, which were trembling. They reminded her so much of Ron and Ginny… "How about you? How are you both?"

"We're as right as rain," Charlie replied, but he lacked sincerity. 

"Holding up," Bill said. "Giving this war everything we've got." 

"And Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?"

"They're in Romania," Charlie told her. "Dad brought the others there because he said the farther they were the safer they'd be. Mum actually hated our being back in this place, and told us she'd never speak to us again… but we can never resist, can we, Bill?"

"_Never_," Bill affirmed, clenching his fists. "We have a score to settle."  

Hermione wanted to ask how Ron died, how Ginny perished… _how awful of you! _she scolded herself. _Be sensitive to their pain! _"I… um…" Instead, she handed Bill her wand. "I don't have a leader yet," she spoke, looking at the two. "Do you think I could be of help to any of you?"

The oldest Weasley took her wand and inspected it. "Well," he said. "I was just telling Charlie how unfair it was that he got more charges than I do, but your being part of my group will probably balance the scale a bit."

"Balance the scale!" Charlie exclaimed. "This is _Hermione Granger_ we're talking about here. I'd say your group outweighs mine now!" 

"So what do you say, kiddo?" Bill asked, returning her wand. "You think you could handle me being your leader?"

"I most certainly could," she answered, relieved. "Thank you." 

"Anytime," Bill said, with a wave of his hand. "A friend of Ron's…" He smiled a bit, his expression a mixture of pain and bitterness. Charlie looked away.  

Impulsively, Hermione hugged Bill. He wrapped his arms around her for a brief moment, then let her go. She extended the same comfort to Charlie. 

"Be careful, Hermione," Charlie cautioned, stroking her hair a bit before releasing her. "Bill's a very demanding leader. Don't do anything rash, all right?"     

"I won't," she assured them. 

"Don't worry, kiddo," Bill said. "I'll protect you." _For Ron's sake, _she thought. 

And Hermione didn't doubt that that he was telling the truth. 

**Author's Notes: **This chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted to have D/Hr profess their love to one another ;) And about time too, I'll say! Also, a hearty Happy Birthday to Pippa and Chiara… welcome to the sinfully delicious world of NC-17 stories! This chapter is also dedicated to you guys… I hope you enjoyed it! ;) ;) ;) Next up, war. Death. Whose? Read to find out ;)

Whew, this chapter's probably the longest ever! Oh, well. And for those waiting for the third chapter of Divine Humiliation… don't worry. It's coming out soon! 


	26. Kill or Be Killed

Abyss 

Hours quickly swept pass them, and before Hermione knew it the time to reclaim their lost school had finally come. She stood beside Malfoy as they listened to Bill, who was relaying to them the general tactics they would be employing once they get inside Hogwarts. 

"I assume that every one of you knows how to Apparate," he was saying, as he looked at each of his charges in the eye. All twenty of them nodded solemnly. Bill acknowledged that with a nod as well. "Wonderful. Now, as Dumbledore mentioned yesterday we will be using the element of surprise as our primary tactic. We are assigned to raid the third floor of Hogwarts, left wing. Below us would be Charlie's group, and above us would be Klein's. Directly opposite us would be Leon's group. When the mission proves to be a success, all groups will be meeting in the Great Hall." He looked at their reactions, and then continued, tapping his wand against his open palm as he did. "Since the Death Eaters won't be anticipating any kind of attack, we're assuming that there would only be a relatively small number of them inside the school. The order still remains though: kill every enemy in sight." Bill paused, and then made eye contact with Hermione. "No mercy shall be given to anyone."

She swallowed, and forced herself to retain his eyes. _Be strong. You're not alone._

"I'm sure some of you are wondering what kinds of spells we could use in this attack," Bill said, finally looking away from her and focusing instead on a blonde, chubby wizard. "I've spoken with Dumbledore regarding this matter, and we agreed it is ridiculous to impose rules on what could or couldn't be used. You have your own choice of spells; use whatever you can to achieve our purpose. Any means to our desired end is encouraged."

Hermione stepped closer to Malfoy, seeking comfort in his closeness. He took her hand and held it firmly in his, squeezing it a few times to reassure her. 

"Once the whole school is purged of Death Eaters, it is inevitable that a counterattack from their side will be made. Dumbledore told me that he and the others would be taking extreme precautions so that we will never lose Hogwarts again, and these precautions I will tell you in a different time. What we need is for all of us to focus on the task that needed to be done _today_. Focus, everyone. Focus." Bill was quiet for a few moments, and his thoughts were revealed when he said, "Remember that we're doing this for the sake of all the people we loved and lost." 

Then he regained his usual strength and said loudly, "I will look out for each and everyone of you as best as I could, but see to it that you will not rely on me entirely for your safety. Learn to protect yourselves and at the same time always, _always_ listen to me for orders. I will not tolerate anyone who would disobey me, do you understand?"

A chorus of 'yes' and 'I do' resonated from the group. Hermione muttered a small 'yes' and noticed that Malfoy didn't say anything. A small part of her expected it from him. 

"Good. Those who have questions may ask them now." 

A couple of hands shot to the air, and Malfoy took this opportunity to leave the group. 

Hermione felt torn. A part of her wanted to remain and listen to Bill, but a larger one screamed at her to follow Malfoy. A battle of the heart and the head, of emotions and rationale, waged within her. In the end, though, she decided to follow her heart.

She followed Malfoy.

"Wait up," she said, scrambling after him. 

He turned to look at her, and paused. 

"Where are you going?" 

Malfoy looked away. "I needed some time to think," he answered. "Is that all right with you?"

Hermione nodded. "You're sure you don't need company?" 

He smiled. "I'll be fine." Malfoy lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles over her jaw. "Don't worry. I'll be back." And he walked away. 

She watched him thoughtfully as he left. Her instincts told her that this was his way of preparing himself for the task that needed to be done. In all honesty, she was afraid for him. She knew the risks he was taking; he was doing the boldest step he could to defy his family, to fight his faith, and ultimately to free himself. She knew the risks though she doubted if she _understood_ them, for how could she understand something she hadn't experienced? But no matter, his fears were _her_ fears now. She only wished she knew what to do in order to comfort him during this time… 

"Hermione."

Harry stood beside her, wearing a small smile on his face. "Hey," she said, smiling in return. Hermione looked behind him and saw that Snape was returning to the hall and his other charges were scattered as well. "You're briefing with Snape is over, I assume?"

He nodded. "I think he likes my being a part of his group as much as I do," he muttered, his smile quickly retreating into a frown as he glanced at the leader in question. "But I guess we haven't a choice."

"Where are you going to Apparate?"

"Near the Headmaster's Office. Snape said our group would take on the 'heart of Hogwarts'."

"Our group would be taking the left wing," Hermione said. "I got Bill, by the way."

"How are you handling everything?" he asked, his expression somber. 

"I'm barely holding up," she answered honestly, her voice fainting to a whisper. She tried to summon every fiber of courage she had, but her fear was too strong. Hermione defiantly raised her chin up. "But I'm trying."

Harry took her hands in between his own and squeezed them. "I'm here for you if you need me," he told her quietly. 

She nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. "I know," she murmured. "And for that I'm thankful." Hermione stepped closer and hugged him with all her might. "I'm very grateful I have you, Harry."

He snuggled into her embrace, and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm grateful I met you," he said. Then he stepped away from her and laughed. "Look at us, acting like we're never going to meet ever again!" 

"I better see you after this," she said, smiling bravely. "Only Merlin knows what I'm to do to you once I don't."

"Same goes double for me," he retorted. Harry grimaced, as if he didn't want to say what was on his mind but prodded on with it anyway. "I still have to talk to you about Malfoy, you know."

Hermione felt the faintest heat on her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. "Well… about that, Harry…"

"You didn't… _you know_… did you?"

She glanced at him to find that his eyes were wide beneath his glasses. Hermione caught his train of thought quickly and shook her head. "We didn't!" she appeased him. The faint heat on her cheeks intensified under his scrutiny, feeling as though he was probing her for more information. She might as well be honest, for she knew she shouldn't keep secrets from him. Not from Harry. "But he confessed, and so… so did I."

"Confessed," he repeated. A long pause followed.  He pursed his lips. "I honestly can't say I'm happy about this—"

"Harry—"

"Let me finish." He placed his hands on both her cheeks. "I'm not happy about this. I know you understand why I'm not, but… if it's for your happiness, then I won't stand in your way." He dropped his hands and looked at her in the eye. "I only wish you know what you're doing, Hermione."

She nodded slowly, tears searing her eyes as she understood what he was saying. "I _do_ know what I'm doing."

"Good. Because one thing _I_ know is that if he doesn't take care of you… I'm going to do worse than kick his arse."

Despite the feelings clotted inside her, Hermione found the energy to chuckle. "I've no doubt that you would." She embraced him again. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for not making this difficult."

He wound his arms around her waist. "I won't ever dream of it."

*

It had finally begun. 

Gathering all the warriors to their sides, the leaders chose the appropriate time to attack. At exactly eleven that night, Languid Valley was emptied of all capable and willing wizards and witches, leaving behind the children and those who would care for them snuggling in their rooms and praying for victory. 

The small popping sounds they made alerted no one, Draco realized, as he pulled Granger in a crouching position behind a tall marble rendition of a knight. He peered out and saw the flaming red hair of one of the Weasleys hidden also behind the statue opposite theirs. The hallway of Hogwarts was silent, creepily so. Draco looked at the other direction and saw nothing but the charred, blackened walls and empty, torn portraits that reminded him of the vision of a burning Hogwarts as he took Granger out of it.

Weasley lifted a hand and pointed forwards. People hidden in different places emerged to take small steps forward, advancing to who knew where. Draco gritted his teeth, and pulled Granger down as she moved to follow Weasley's orders. "Stay with me," he whispered to her.

"But—"

"Shh!" he hissed. "He said so himself he couldn't protect all of us. We protect each other instead."

She was silent behind him, and he could only guess what her opinion was. But as long as she was quiet, then all was well.

Suddenly, movement of feet and scurrying of robes caught his ears. Draco knew that Weasley heard it for his eyes were also trained on the direction it came from. They hid themselves again. 

"An attack," a brisk voice muttered, his feet making small steps as he walked. "They said that we're under—"

"Ridiculous!" a woman shushed. "There's no possible way—"

"But—"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The same spell rang twice, and then the sound of two bodies falling to the floor filled the hallway. 

Draco stood and found Mr. and Mrs. Bulstrode dead, their expressions the very symptom of those struck with the killing curse. He glanced at Weasley, and knew at once that one of the spells came from him. The other came from a chubby wizard he'd never seen before. 

"Let's move," Weasley said, motioning with his hand. "This way."

Reluctantly, Draco followed the red-haired sod as they moved farther from their starting position. He took Granger's hand and pulled her in front of him, then pushed her ahead so that he could see all her movements and watch her back as well. She glanced at him, nodded, and strode forward. 

The hallway wasn't lit with anything at all, but they had charmed their eyes so that they could move without needing lights from their wands. This was one of the brilliant suggestions Granger had come up with earlier. The other was that they should also charm their feet to not make a sound as they moved. 

Weasley held up a hand again, and everybody paused. He then made gestures to both his sides, and his followers knew what that meant – there were people heading their way. Immediately, they flattened themselves to the walls, impeccably blending with the shadows of the darkened hallway. 

"They're here," whispered a voice unfamiliar to Draco. 

"I was wondering what they've been doing. Now we know. Plotting an—"

"Students," their companion said, taking a big whiff. "Mere beginners. How pathetic of Dumbledore--"

Draco heard a hitch in Granger's breathing, and hoped she wouldn't do anything rash…

… like walking forward and shouting, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"  

All hell broke loose. Of course the stupid spell didn't work; it wasn't strong enough, and the three Death Eaters merely blocked it easily. Draco dove for Granger as one of them saw and immediately cursed at her. They both fell to the side, him lying on top of her, and he heard several shouts of "_Crucio_!" and "_Avada Kedavra_!" aimed at the enemies. 

He pinned her with a glare. "What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded, pushing himself up. "You know better than use a simple spell, Hermione!"

She stood and glared back. "That was the only spell I could think of," she whispered, and then looked away. "I'm bloody sorry it didn't work." 

Weasley jogged to them, his face twisted in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked her. 

Granger nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Weasley said gruffly. "But _you_, of all people, should know better than rely on simple spells. I told you to go for the kill! What good is your brain to you if you don't use it—"

"She said she was sorry," Draco cut in brusquely. "Back off."

Weasley looked at him. "You," he said. "You're a Malfoy."

"I am. Is that a problem, Weasley?"

"It won't be if you stay out of my way." He then moved ahead. The others followed suit.  

Draco watched as Granger walked behind the others, and echoed her movements. He was surprised at her foolishness, for he knew her to act so rationally despite how heavy and severe the circumstances were. He never thought of her as a liability, but her action might just prove she _was_ one. He pursed his lips, and then cleared his thoughts. He shouldn't demean her abilities just because she committed something infernally dim-witted. Perhaps she was just nervous, and for a moment her nerves clouded her judgment. 

Or, perhaps, she never wanted to use any of the Unforgivable Curses, so she would instead rely on simpler, _safer_ spells.  

_Stupid, stubborn Gryffindor. _He grimaced. Such principles would surely get her killed—

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

A body dropped to the floor, and Draco saw that it was from their side. Several Death Eaters, ten of them at least, emerged from the front with their wands raised and curses streaming from their lips. He knew none of the faces, but didn't dwell on knowing them – he became too busy with muttering spell after spell. But these Death Eaters were quick; every spell uttered to them was met with a counter curse, rendering it useless. Granger swerved to the side as a thin green rivulet narrowly missed her by inches, and she answered with a spell of her own. Draco ducked as a shot of blue flame sauntered towards him, and then let out a blue flame of his own. It hit one of the unguarded Death Eaters, and his robe caught on fire. Draco let out another flame and this one caught his enemy's hair. It was the distraction they needed; the horrible screams from these two more than confused the others, letting Weasley, a red-haired witch, and a black-haired wizard overrun them with several spells Draco hadn't heard of before. 

Soon the enemies were subdued and those left behind tried to catch their breaths. 

"He's dead," a brunette called out sadly, as she felt for the pulse of the chubby wizard lying on the floor. 

Weasley barely registered surprise. "Leave him," he said. "We need to move out." 

*     

Hermione felt drained and weak. A minute ago, the chubby wizard was standing in front of her, and then… he was dead. He was _dead_. She was nearly killed herself; only she swerved in time to avoid an Unforgivable Curse hurled at her face. She barely came back with a spell… but she knew her spells weren't potent enough to get the job done. If she wanted to come out of this alive, then she better use the most powerful spells there were. She needed to use the Unforgivable Curses if she wanted to contribute something to the cause. The problem was, she'd never used one, or even _intended_ on ever using one.

"Forget your damned principles," Malfoy whispered to her sharply as they were on the move again. "Kill or be killed, Granger. This is how a war works."

She looked at him, first in surprise, then in anger. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't want to—"

"It's not a matter of want. It's a matter of _need_. Do _you _think that these people wanted to come out and kill others just for kicks? Damn it, Hermione – Weasley was right. Use your brains!"   
At her offended expression, something on his face yielded. "You know there's no other way. A moment's hesitation can cost you your life or someone else's, Hermione." 

She knew he was right – after all, he was just voicing out what her brain was telling her all along. Hermione steeled herself, and nodded.

"Here's your chance," he said, his eyes trained in front of them. Malfoy released a smirk. "Look who we have here."   

She followed his gaze and swallowed – there were five Death Eaters blocking their path.

And Mrs. Parkinson was one of them.

*

Harry followed Snape as they moved towards Dumbledore's office. He wasn't proud of what he did – he'd already killed three Death Eaters – but something in Snape's expression told him he did the right thing. After all, this was war, and it was kill or be killed.

He thought of Hermione, and hoped she was still alive. 

"This way," Snape muttered, rushing towards the hall leading to the door of the office. Then he paused – there were many Death Eaters guarding it, as though _expecting_ their enemies to show up.

A collective intake of breaths reached Harry's ears, and he drew some himself. He started when he heard Snape's voice beside him, loud and clear: "We need to get inside. Follow me at any cost, do you understand?"

He nodded. 

The Death Eaters were at first surprised to see Snape heading the attack, then the surprise turned to spite and pressure as a full-blown fight began. Harry cursed, as did Snape, as they slowly infiltrated the tight barricade of Death Eaters in front of the phoenix. Harry's knuckles were white from gripping his wand too tight, his knees almost buckling beneath him from sheer exhaustion, but he was able to catch up with Snape. Soon, they were inside the office…

…and found Lucius Malfoy inside, casually perusing through books as though he owned them.

"Lucius," Snape said, lifting his wand.

The older Malfoy raised his brows as he looked at Snape, then at Harry, and back. "Well," he muttered silkily. "This _is_ a surprise, Severus." 

**Author's Notes: **I'm so sorry it had been ages since I updated. I was simply too busy with graduation preparations and what not… (I'm just happy I made it as cum laude… hurrah!) so I barely had time to write anything. Don't worry. I'm not planning on making you wait for too long for the next chapters of this story, as well as of Divine Humiliation. **Speaking of which, that story's also updated!!! :) :) :) A double treat! **

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this, thank you for doing so, and see you next chappy!         


	27. Predator and Prey

Abyss 

****

Draco swore under his breath and gritted his teeth in frustration, knowing that even if they outnumbered the Death Eaters they'd be lucky to get out of this alive. Mrs. Parkinson was not a fool, not like her daughter. She'd never let anyone other than the best guard her in a situation as dire as this. 

Some of the wizards and witches looked about ready to pounce. "Steady," Weasley whispered, his eyes locked at the enemies. He probably recognized the severity of the situation as well and didn't want the others to act so irrationally. "Steady…" 

Mrs. Parkinson looked at each of them, and her lips twitched when hers met Draco's eyes. Her mouth parted into a grand smile, before she turned and began to walk away. She was enticing him to follow her, and this he knew. Draco stepped forward, but Granger stopped him with a hand that gripped his arm desperately. "Don't follow her," she whispered, her eyes gazing forward. "That's what she wants you to do."

_That's what I want to do_, his mind reasoned, but his body heeded her warning. With difficulty he lifted his eyes off the retreating figure and focused on the others. It was fortunate he decided to, because at that moment they began to attack. 

"_Reducto!"_

_"Impedimenta!"_

_"Protego!"_

An exchange of spells flew in the air, flames from curses and streams of green and red met, were exchanged viciously. Three minutes elapsed and two from their side fell down. Five minutes passed, and six were dead. Seven minutes. The fight continued, and their number continued to dwindle while the other remained steadfast in their offense and defense. Nine minutes. Then—

"Draco!"

He turned and saw Granger charge at him, hauling her body over his and causing them to stumble to the floor. A shot of green sailed over their heads, hitting a window instead of a body. Granger lifted herself, straddled him, and shouted, "_Crucio!_"

One of their fervent enemies went down on the floor screaming, drawing his knees to his chest and writhing in agony. A dark-haired wizard took the opportunity and finished the fallen enemy with a Killing Curse. 

Draco was filled with awe; for a first Unforgivable Curse she truly did an amazing performance at executing it. "Impressive," he said.

Granger looked at him in a grave fashion. "He was trying to hurt you," she said simply. And quickly they regained their feet, faced separate enemies. 

Weasley was able to eliminate a threat, shouting the Killing Curse at the top of his lungs. The battle was now down to three against six. 

"_Impedimenta!_" shouted Granger, and a witch she was battling flew backwards and collided with a marble statue, causing it to topple over her. She gave a short shriek and then it was gone. 

A sable-haired Death Eater produced a sharp knife from his robes. "_Engorgio!_" he yelled, and the sharp knife swelled into a sword-like weapon. He let it soar. The dark-haired wizard was unfortunately impaled at the throat. 

Now it was two against five.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" A green rivulet emanated from Draco's wand and connected solidly with a wizard's forehead. He slumped gracelessly to the ground. "So much for the best," Draco muttered in triumph.

The battle was down to one against five.

The last remaining wizard looked around him in alarm, his wand at the ready. His eyes connected with Granger's, and reading his intention to kill her she swiftly pointed her wand at him. 

A curse sealed his fate, and just as his body fell to the ground, so did hers. 

"Hermione," Draco said, dropping to the floor and gathering her in his arms. Her shoulders shook with fervor and she entwined her arms around his neck, tears flowing incessantly from her eyes. "Shh," he soothed, trying in his best to calm her down. With a heart as big and good as hers, he couldn't imagine how awful she must feel, knowing that she had to be the reason for someone else's death, no matter how evil that person was, or how helpful it was for the cause. 

"We have to move," Weasley spoke, and Draco looked at him, intending to bark and snap. But Weasley was looking at her with sympathy and compassion, and his words spoken not unkindly. He closed his mouth, and focused on her. He felt Granger nod against him, and he helped her up and wiped her tears with his hands. 

She glanced at him, her eyes large and red. "Thank you. I'm fine now."

Weasley looked at the hall, with the bodies of the others littering the ground, and grimaced. "To the Great Hall, everybody," he said. He led the way, walking towards the door on the right.

Draco immediately headed towards the opposite direction. 

-

Oh God oh God oh God… 

Hermione closed her eyes and drew a deep, shaky breath, trying to cleanse herself from the vision of her enemy slumping to the ground, dead, because of her own doing. It was difficult, for her mind kept conjuring images of his final moments… how his eyes rolled up to his head, how his wand fell from his side, how he fell to the floor… _dead dead dead dead dead_…

She felt weak, tired, drained, and that was why she fell to the floor the moment her fiend did. She didn't know that using the curse was very exhausting, but it was. Hermione wondered for a moment how Malfoy and the others utilized this curse without feeling the way she did, but—

"Malfoy! What the—Malfoy, come back here!" 

Bill's voice was clear and sharp against her hearing, and quickly she opened her eyes to see Malfoy's blond hair almost melding with the darkness. He would have disappeared from her view completely hadn't it been from the charm she used on her eyes. "Malfoy!" she choked.

He stopped at her call, and turned. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I said we're going to the Great Hall!" Bill demanded.

Malfoy pursed his lips. "I'm done following you around like a dog, Weasley," he said, infuriated. 

"Get back here Malfoy. That's. An. Order."

He looked at Bill, then at her, and back. "No. I have my own score to settle." Malfoy returned his gaze at her. "I'm sorry," he muttered, speaking the words only to her. Then he turned and ran. 

"Draco…" _You promised! _Hermione took a step forward, and then faltered. _You promised me you wouldn't leave my side! _She knew where he was going, and with whom he was going to settle that score. But she also knew that he couldn't do what he wanted _alone_, unguarded, with his emotions having free reign over him like that. It could mean that he was heading towards death, and her throat and chest constricted in fear at the thought – she wouldn't allow that to happen. Not if she could help it. 

He broke his promise and left her side, but that didn't mean she would break hers and leave his. 

"Bill," she began, turning to the oldest Weasley. "Bill, we have to help him. He's in danger! He's going to—"

Bill shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said. "But the order was clear. We have to go to the Great Hall." He cast an angry glare at the direction Malfoy took. "We can't waste any more time."

"Malfoy's not a boy anymore," the red-haired witch said. "He could take care of himself." The black-haired wizard nodded his agreement.

She was becoming desperate. Snakes slithered in her stomach at the thought of them abandoning Draco like this. They couldn't just leave him! "But—"

"Let's go." And Bill walked out, the other two flanking his heels. 

At that moment, Hermione made her decision. She wouldn't walk away. Not on Malfoy. "I'm sorry, Bill," she whispered. Her feet not making any noise as she moved, she turned and followed the way Malfoy seized. 

"HERMIONE!" she heard Bill call after her. 

"I'm sorry," she muttered, tears searing her eyes again. She was never one who was happy from having to defy authority, but here she was, doing just that, committing something rash. Hopefully she'd see Malfoy alive so she could kill him. 

She glanced behind her; saw that she couldn't figure out the silhouettes against the dark hallway. She knew she'd run pretty far from the others now. There was no turning back. 

A dilemma confronted her soon after. In front of her lied two paths, one was leading to the right and the other, to the left. Throwing caution to the wind and hoping against hope she would choose the right one, she pivoted and headed towards the left. 

A few minutes later, and she paused to catch her breath, her hand resting against the wall to prevent her from slumping to the floor. Her knees were buckling, her shoulders trembling. Hermione looked around her in dismay. She wasn't far behind Malfoy, so she knew she should've caught up with him ages ago. So why hadn't she—

"Lost, are you, my dear?"

The hair on her skin prickled and stood up. Her breath was lodged somewhere between her mouth and throat, emitting a choked sound. She straightened herself, gripped her wand tighter, turned…

…and saw Mrs. Parkinson beaming at her, an affectionate smile adorning her face. She twirled her wand around. "Don't you worry, dear. I'll help you find your way soon enough."

-

"A surprise indeed," Lucius continued, casually removing his glasses from his face and setting it down on the table beside layers of books. His hand discretely reached inside his robes, and Harry tensed, preparing himself for an attack. 

Before he knew it, the books atop the table flew towards them, showering them with hardbound novels and volumes with weights to rival theirs. Harry went down on his knees as several tomes hit him on his chest, stomach, head. Snape, though, hurled the books away from him. But being busy with deflecting books he became unguarded and Harry's "Lookout!" came a bit too late. A Cruciatus curse impaled Snape, bringing him also to his knees. 

Harry was never a friend of Snape's, but seeing him writhe in pain and agony was enough to make him feel overwhelmed with hate and anger that he felt for Lucius Malfoy. 

"A traitor in my midst," Malfoy spoke, his voice deep, his face barely repressing his spite as he looked down on Snape. He walked around the desk, raised his wand, had it aimed at the professor. "I invited you in my home, shared my food, my company, my _thoughts_ with you, and this… this treachery, is what I get in return?" 

Snape was trying to catch his breath, sweat making his forehead glisten. On his face it was obvious that pain racked him still, rendering him unable to speak. 

"Working for Dumbledore, are you, Severus? Ah. I see that the magnificent, all-knowing wizard had you blinded to his lies and foolishness. But as they say, only a fool would follow a fool." He flicked his wand. "And I'll see to it that Dumbledore would also follow you to the grave."

"That's enough, Malfoy!" shouted Harry. Grabbing a book nearest to him, he threw it at the older wizard. 

Lucius stepped back and the book flew harmlessly in front of him. He curled his lip in displeasure. "The infamous Harry Potter," he said. "Always had to be the hero. Well. The Dark Lord would reward me handsomely if I could deliver him your head. Now be a good boy and hand it over to me."

"I'll bet he'd be more happy to have yours instead," Harry returned, gripping his wand tighter. 

Snape made a coughing sound. 

"Typical," sneered Malfoy, after a few moments of silence. "Only a boy who'd had absolutely no parental guidance could be so naïve and so crude at the same time, though I guess even with James' and Lily's presence you'd still be the pathetic nuisance that you are now."

Anger flared inside Harry, making his vision blurred, obscured for an instant. "_Impedimenta!_"

"_Protego!_"

And Harry, having copied what Malfoy did before, let the books before him fly towards the older man. As he was busy deflecting the spell he first sent Malfoy was sorely hit – on the head, arms, chest. He faltered, his pain evident on his face. _An eye for an eye,_ Harry thought smugly. _A pain for a pain._

"_Expelliarmus!_" Snape said, rising to his feet. Malfoy's wand shot from his hand and dropped to the floor.

Harry was relieved to see that Snape's pain appeared to have lessened, almost gone. 

"Give it up Lucius," Snape drawled, standing ramrod straight, his pale face gaunt and tight. "You've lost Hogwarts. You've lost leadership. You've lost _everything_."

Both Harry and Snape were still too far from retrieving the wand, but Harry was confident that even if that was the case, with two wands pointed and ready to curse at him Malfoy was defenseless, defeated. 

But their enemy proved to be undaunted by the sudden change of events. The corner of Lucius' mouth twitched. "No," he whispered. "Not quite everything."

With blinding speed, he knelt and retrieved his wand. 

-

When faced with the end of the darkened hallway Draco picked the right and walked in it. He was wary; every scratch, every noise, every sound that met his ears was regarded with distrust. _Constant vigilance. _He mustn't let his guard down. Not when he was out hunting a formidable prey. 

Suddenly, scurrying of feet reached his ears, and two large figures loomed in the distance in front of him, their bulky weight apparent as they ran. Draco squinted, trying to get a better look. "Goyle? Crabbe?"

They stopped, a few good meters still separating them. "D-Draco?" Goyle called. 

"Is that you?" Crabbe added.

Draco paused, not knowing what to do. Had they been others, they would have been struck dead by now. But these two, they've been with him for the past seven years, offering their constant presence at his sides. The three of then weren't friends – at least, not the type of friendship exhibited by the Golden Trio – but their company, their flanking his feet like faithful dogs, was one of the things that remained true and steady during those times. Even if they were now playing at different, opposing sides, Draco knew he didn't want to hurt them. At least, not when it wasn't necessary. "It's me," he confirmed. "Where's Mrs. Parkinson?"

Goyle and Crabbe looked at each other, then at him. "Why should we tell you?" the former said, clumsily raising his wand and aiming it unsteadily. 

"They've… they've told us you turned traitor on us," Crabbe muttered. 

He had not the time for explanations. "Tell me what I need to know, and I'll let you both go."

The pair looked at each other again. "We don't want to hurt you, Draco," said Crabbe.

"It might be better if you just leave. We won't say we saw you."

They were still faithful to him, he realized. _Both_ sides were reluctant to hurt each other, and that was a surprise. Perhaps they _were _the people Draco could call friends after all. "Where's Mrs. Parkinson?" It wasn't a question. It was a threat. 

"We won't say," Goyle said. 

They were both being stupid, stubborn Slytherins. "Then as reluctant as I am…" Draco raised his wand. 

"_Avada Kedavra!_" 

Draco watched, stunned, as Goyle dropped dead on the floor, life draining immediately from his face. Turning, he saw his mother impeccably separate from the shadows, her own wand raised as well.

Crabbe emitted a guttural, gurgling groan. 

"Vincent," she said coldly, her face devoid of any emotion, "if you don't want to end up like Gregory then you better tell my son what he wants to know."

Crabbe dropped his wand to the floor, stepped back, stepped on Goyle's outstretched, lifeless hand and stumbled to the floor. "She's… she's on this floor, but on the other side. Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me…"

Draco lowered his wand and looked away. Crabbe had potential; his large bulk formidable and fearsome. But here he was, making a fool out of himself. It was disgusting. He should be properly taught—

"Thank you Vincent," his mother said calmly. "_Avada Kedavra._"

"Mother!" he shouted, running towards Crabbe. But, like Goyle, he was also dead, his life wiped away in an instant. An uncomfortable feeling filled Draco as he stared at the two. Guilt. "You didn't have to kill them!" he gritted, gesturing at the Slytherins. "You didn't have to! I would've done something else to—"

"It was necessary," she said, lowering her wand. She pursed her lips. "He was a threat to you."

"A _threat? _Mother, you and I know he – they – are—" He winced, "—_were_ too stupid to be a threat! Most especially to me! _They weren't a threat_!" 

"Calm down," his mother said with a frown. "They're dead. We can't do anything more about it."

"No," another voice said. "You couldn't anymore, could you, Narcissa?"

Emilia Parkinson emerged from the shadows, the cruel, taunting smile still etched on her face. "I have to hand it to you – I never thought you had enough spine to kill." A harsh laugh bubbled from Mrs. Parkinson's mouth as she glanced at the dead bodies on the floor. "Well. I guess I owe you a favor. Those two were more of a nuisance than help. I'm sure I would've done the same had I been in your place."

The desire to permanently remove her presence was enough to drive him out of his mind. Draco stepped forward. "Shut up!" He raised his wand. "_Impedi—"_

"_Crucio!_"

From out of nowhere came the curse that knocked Draco off his feet. Pain pulsed and throbbed in him, running through him like fast-moving ice in his veins. He crumpled, writhed in despair, as wave after wave drowned him. 

"Draco!" his mother said, rushing to his aid. 

"Ah," Emilia said with a wide smile. She held a hand to the side and another grasped at it, entwined her fingers with Mrs. Parkinson's. "Thank you, my dear. Now kindly help me get rid of them."

Draco watched, through a haze of pain, as Hermione looked at him, her eyes glassy blank, dead. 

She raised her wand. 

"Now," Mrs. Parkinson said, the devil on her face as she smiled. "You'd know how it feels to be killed by the person you love, _boy_."

**Author's Notes: **Thank you very much for the reviews the last chapter got from you, guys! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh… now I really feel sad… the end is soooo near… sniff, sniff for those of you who've followed this story from the beginning, then you'll know that the past eight months (**eight months!**) I've dedicated blood, sweat, and tears for this had been very worthwhile indeed. Eek. No need to be emotional, there's still two chapters away (do forgive me for the outburst – I just need to get it off my chest) ;)

Erm, as for Divine Humiliation… I've already got 3000 words down but I may change the whole plot of the chapter because as of now I am definitely having troubles with it. Fear not, I won't give it up! But I'm thinking of finishing this story first before continuing DH… I hope that's all right… 

Anyways, thank you for reading, hope you like it, and see you next chapter!


	28. Words

Abyss 

The surprise at finding Granger under the Imperius Curse was enough to send his body and mind reeling in shock, numbing him enough to temporarily dissuade the pain that engulfed him. He used that moment to summon his strength and stand, albeit on weak feet. His mother hissed beside him, her breaths ragged and fast. They focused their attention on the unlikely duo in front of them, neither one letting his or her guard down.

Nobody moved. Draco watched closely as Mrs. Parkinson's eyes danced from him to his mother, her face screwed into an unmistakable expression of triumph. He glanced at Granger, disgust filling him to the core. Her wand was pointed at them, not doing anything except warn them. Her eyes were latched on the floor beneath him, not showing any indication that she knew what was going on, that she knew what she was doing. _A weapon, _he thought, inwardly cursing. _She's being used like she's nothing but a damned weapon. _The idea was repulsive, but very intelligent, very _sly_. For the second time that night, guilt tormented him. If he hadn't left, if he hadn't pursued Parkinson on his own… Draco gave in the urge to smirk. How very _Gryffindor _of him to think that Granger's fate was his fault. But despite his reservations, his rationalizations, he knew it was.

"Leave my son out of this," his mother said. Draco had to applaud her; her composure was still regal despite everything that had happened that night.

Parkinson's gaze flickered at her. "I would _not_, Narcissa," she said, her voice a petulant child's. "Honestly, do you really think that I would let a murderer like him wander out of my sight? Especially _now_ that I've caught him?" She gave a laugh, short, harsh, insane. "I may lose Hogwarts tonight, but I will sleep well knowing I've also slain the one who killed my precious daughter."

"And do _you_ think," snapped his mother, "that I would stand idly by and watch you do it?"

"I do not care what you think, _dear_ Mrs. Malfoy," Parkinson retorted. "But if you really want to meddle, then by all means. Don't let me stop you."

Draco breathed through his mouth, air moving between his teeth. Tension formed into coils that heavily wore his shoulders down, making them sag against his better judgment. He was anxious, because not only was he wary of the actions of Mrs. Parkinson and Granger, he was also guarding the actions of his mother. He knew that given the right moment she would eliminate Granger, because as of now she was a _threat_. But he'd be damned if he let her die. _Not now. Not when—_

Mrs. Parkinson stepped forward, causing both Draco and his mother to tense, their breathing to hitch. She sensed this as her ugly mouth widened, but she didn't do more than simply whisper something in Granger's ear. Draco swallowed as her haunted, vacant eyes lost their interest on the floor. They latched onto him, her mouth moving for a moment, the hand clutching her wand tightening.

His mother stood still beside him, waiting.

But Draco didn't waste one more moment, knowing that if his mother made a move first then Granger would most certainly die. _Disarm her. Disarm. _"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protego!_"

"_Crucio!_"

Other than the slight tremor that passed on her face, Granger didn't exhibit any pain brought by the curse that struck her.

He cursed inwardly, knowing what pain she must be experiencing right now. Only the terrible power of the Imperius Curse could prevent her from feeling it. He cast a glance at his mother, also cursing her for what she'd done.

"Perhaps you don't care for her after all, boy," sneered Parkinson, "if you'd allow your mother to curse her like that."

The words were a punch to his gut, knocking the wind out of him as their effect. But Draco was not a fool as to show any sign of weakness. "Have you ever thought," he retorted, "that perhaps I _never_ cared for her after all?"

Surprise haunted Parkinson's face, but not a flicker of emotion showed on Granger's.

"I may have overestimated your abilities, boy." She shrugged. "But then again, if you hadn't loved my daughter then I doubt you could love _anything_ at all." Parkinson looked at his mother. "Hear that, Narcissa? I reckon you won't have any problems with your son tainting your name with his marrying a Mudblood."

"He will _not_," she said empathically, "marry that Mudblood. Not when I'm still alive."

Mrs. Parkinson chuckled. "Then we'll just have to remedy that, won't we?"

The absurdity of the conversation was not lost on Draco. While the elders were engaged in verbal sparring he chanced a glance at Granger, but she wasn't listening. In fact, she looked like a thousand miles away. Her face held the serenity of a person asleep, but her eyes were that of a corpse's. _Come out of there, you stupid girl, _he thought. _You're the most intelligent witch ever, damn it! Of all people, _you're_ the last person I'd expect to fall under that spell!_

"_Avada—"_

"_Impedimenta!_"

The curse blew his mother off her feet, sending her crashing into a large statue on the wall. The gnawing sound of cracking bones reached his ears, and Draco watched, aghast, as his mother clutched her fist against her chest, her wand lying uselessly on her side.

"You were saying something about you dying, I recall?" Mrs. Parkinson said, grinning.

Dark fury rose freely within him, nearly smothering him in its force. He glared at her. "_Cruc—_"

"_Immobulus!_"

Mrs. Parkinson patted Granger's head. "Thank you, dear." She turned her eyes at him. "Serves you right, boy. I wasn't quite finished with your mother just yet. Don't worry, you'll have your turn soon enough."

Draco watched in stunned, stoic silence as Mrs. Parkinson sashayed towards his mother, her steps imperial and her stance proud. She tapped her wand against her open palm. If he could only move, he could curse her, when she had her back turned on him. That was when she was at her most vulnerable. That was when she couldn't fight—

With her unbroken hand his mother grabbed her wand and unsteadily rose to her feet. She pointed it at the approaching woman.

Mrs. Parkinson shook her head, then laughed in amusement. "We both know, Narcissa, that you're helpless against me," she said. With a sudden move of her hand she took the wand aimed at her and snapped it in two.

His mother stifled a gasp of outrage.

"No," Mrs. Parkinson said, after a second's silence. "I don't think I'll use the Killing Curse on you. You're too precious." She turned her head, spotted the glass window just on her left. She chuckled. "Perfect," she purred.

Draco's stomach froze in fear as he realized what her plan was. Though immovable he tried to flex his fingers. _Finite Incantatem. Finite Incantatem. Finite—_

"_Impe__dimenta!_'

He broke the curse seconds too late. He watched as his mother flew through the air, her shrieks loud and shrill, until her back crashed with the glass window. Blood and glass splattered around them, and his mother's rounded eyes and screaming mouth was the last he saw of her before gravity pulled her down into the abyss.  

_Kill. _

Hermione's mind was, for once, perfectly peaceful, perfectly calm. A part of her rebelled against the feeling, but for what reason she couldn't remember. It was a pleasant sensation, to be worrying about nothing, to be thinking about nothing, to _be_ absolutely nothing.

_Kill. _

But despite the freedom of mind, her head was heeding a strangely familiar voice, a voice that whispered enchantments to her. But it was such a nice voice, a lullaby almost… lulling her to the point of sleep, suspending her in the midst of dream and reality…

_Kill. _

Her body was moving, her arms lifting, her feet walking like they had a mind of their own. Well, indeed they do, for she surely knew _she _wasn't controlling them. But for what purpose, she didn't know, or did she care. She was flying, soaring, without the burden of thoughts and knowledge encaging her, trapping her in its arms… she was free. 

_Kill. Him. _

_Him._

NO!

Like a bolt of lightning another voice pierced through the lullaby, louder, stronger, more persistent. Annoying. It drove away the pleasant voice, tried to overcome it. The second voice was familiar… but also repugnant, repulsive, revolting. Hermione felt herself shrink away from this voice, and sought for the lullaby that called to her, sang to her to…

_Kill._

NO! NO! NO!  

"Perhaps I _never_ cared for her after all?"

The words stirred something in her, momentarily freeing her from her suspended state. And then she was shrouded in nothingness again. A few more minutes, and a reverberating scream echoed in her ears, and the sound of glass breaking shocked her. But only for a moment. She was back in the lullaby of the pleasant voice. And Hermione, for once, was content.

"Filth – degrade myself with such a woman? – no one is good enough for a Malfoy – _no one_ – not that girl under your spell – that Mudblood – Mudblood – Mudblood –" _Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood…_

The pleasant voice vanished, replaced by the stinging realization of what was happening around her. The second voice in her head – _her_ voice – cheered at her awakening. And _his_ voice swirled around her, engulfed her completely.

It was ironic.

She responded to his foul insult. And now she was _truly_ free.   

-

The sudden movement came as a surprise to Snape, but not to Harry. Before Lucius could do anything more, Harry did what was only proper, what he could in order to save both their lives.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

And Lucius Malfoy's body thudded to the floor.

Harry lowered his wand and pursed his lips. Sweat trickled on his back, and despite what he did he felt relieved, that he was alive, that he made it. There was no need for hiding any longer, and this thought banished all his weariness and exhaustion. Hogwarts was theirs again. Hogwarts was _free_.

The elation he felt was palpable, and only Snape's burning stare bore him down. Harry could feel it, the scorching, flaming stare he was receiving from the professor, but he refused to meet it. He stared at Malfoy's head, its color rapidly draining from the open-eyed face. And that was when it hit him.

He killed Lucius Malfoy.

He killed Draco Malfoy's father.

And he didn't feel guilty for having committed it.

Without a word Snape walked towards Malfoy's corpse. He knelt down, gathered the wand next to the body. He then broke it with his knee.

Harry was compelled to say something. "Sir…"

Snape looked at him, his face blank, passive.

The same could be said about Harry's voice when he spoke. "Don't tell Malfoy I killed his father."

-

Knives plunging into him almost brought Draco to his knees. Pain, garnered from the realization of his mother's death, was enough to make him cry out. But with every ounce of strength he owned, Draco pulled himself together, knowing that if he broke now there'd be no chance he and Granger could get out of this predicament alive. There was time for mourning later, and he assured himself of it.

He thought of his father, and then dismissed it as quickly as it came.

"Well," Parkinson said gaily, stepping on shards of glass tainted with blood, "I was meaning for that to happen for a long time. Something about eliminating threats, I'm sure _you_ understand, don't you boy?" She turned to him, not the least bit perturbed at having him free. "After all, that was precisely what you did to my daughter, didn't you? You eliminated her, for this filth."

"Filth," Draco repeated, seeking Granger's eyes and retaining it. "What made you think, Mrs. Parkinson, that I would degrade myself with such a woman? No one is good enough for a Malfoy. _No one. _Not that girl under your spell, or even—" He paused for greater emphasis, "—your precious daughter."

His plan right now was to goad the woman into losing her composure. He would have a greater chance in fighting someone who'd act without thinking, someone driven by emotions and not thought. And the only way to do it was to degrade Pansy. No, not a difficult thing to do at all. _Lose it. Fight me. Don't think. _

It worked.

Mrs. Parkinson's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and the vein on her neck throbbed angrily at the insult. She was happy no more. "I would not," she seethed, "let someone like _you_ offend the memory of my daughter, do you hear? Not a murderer like you." She raised her wand. "I think it's about time you pay, boy."

Draco laughed. "Pay for what?" he asked. "For telling the truth? That your daughter is worthless? Garbage? _Filth_?" He pointed at Granger. "She's even worse than that _Mudblood_."  

Mrs. Parkinson snapped.

And ironically, so did Hermione.

-

She acted without thinking. "_Expelliarmus!"_

Mrs. Parkinson's wand shot out of her hand. The sudden intrusion from her part obviously surprised the woman, for she never had time to block the simple curse. The wand flew towards Malfoy's feet, and he stepped on it hard. It broke under the pressure.

"Well," he drawled lazily, "I bet it's about time you follow your _precious daughter_ to the grave. Give her my regards, would you?"

Hermione had to tremble at the ice in his voice. She looked away from the scene, knowing what was going to happen next.

"But first… _Crucio._"

Mrs. Parkinson's body rippled in response, brought down by a pain so intense and rigid she shed tears. She bit on her bottom lip, drawing blood that smeared her teeth and mouth.

Her shouts were no less than painful for Hermione to bear. "Draco…" 

_"Crucio._"

"Draco!"

He looked at her, his mouth thin, his face ashen.

She shook her head, and no words emerged from her mouth.

Malfoy regarded the woman on the floor with a glare. "_Avada Kedavra._"  
And the screams, the ripples, the tears stopped.

It was over.

The moment he slumped to the floor, Hermione was there, supporting him with her weight. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard, glad that he was alive, glad that they made it. Tears sprouted from her eyes as she felt his arms winding around her, and his breath was warm against her neck as he buried his face on it. 

"My mother…" he whispered, and it hurt her to hear him sound so broken, so pained.

"I know," she said, holding him tight. "I know."

How could she comfort him, when she knew that even if they won this battle, this night cost him his mother?

"I love you," she said, knowing that these words might be inappropriate at a time like this. But these were the words she knew weren't promises that could be broken, weren't lies that could wound. "I love you."

And when he nodded, somehow she knew these were the words he needed to hear the most.

-

They found the Great Hall quickly, relieved that they didn't have to defend themselves on the way. Draco and Hermione saw that the room was filled with wizards and witches who'd gone to the war tonight. On their faces, victory and triumph shone; faces smudged with sweat and grime also glistened with smiles and laughter.

"Hermione!"

She spotted Harry coming towards her, and Hermione felt Draco disengage himself from her. She looked at him and frowned, but he only gave her a half-smile. The next thing she knew, Harry was hugging her very tight.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm glad you're alive."

His words only reflected what she was feeling. "I am too, Harry," she said, smiling in spite of her tears. "I'm so thankful I saw you again. How are the others? Are they…?"

He drew away. "Almost everybody made it," he said with a huge smile. "Seamus, Neville, Dean… the Professors, they made it too. Oh, you should've seen how Sprout and McGonagall embraced each other when they met."

Hermione searched the crowd, finding his words to be the truth. She met Professor McGonagall's gaze, and they both smiled at each other. Seamus waved at her, and so did Neville, Dean, and some seventh years. Happiness so bountiful made her almost feel dizzy in its onslaught.

She looked at Draco, and knew that she was indeed, genuinely, truthfully content.

"All right there, Potter?" he asked, coming to stand by her side.

Hermione's brows drew together as Harry answered, "All right." without meeting the Slytherin's gaze.    

"Hermione! Harry!"

Bill and Charlie came upon them. The older Weasley was wearing a grin that threatened to split his face into two. "I'm glad you both made it," he said, clapping Harry on the back. "Despite _not_ following orders." He fixed Hermione an accusatory stare, then laughed when she squirmed in guilt.

Charlie shook his head. "Let it go, Bill," he advised. "The important thing here is that they're alive."

"Yeah," Harry said, as he and Hermione exchanged smiles. "I don't think Ron would want to have it any other way."

And the chaos around them shrank until they were all standing in silence. Dumbledore stood in their midst, a wide smile on his face. His voice boomed as he spoke, and everybody felt overwhelmed with pride and joy even though he uttered only four words:

"Hogwarts has been reclaimed."

**Author's Notes: **Woo! Only one chapter more to go… and this story is done! Ooh, I can't wait :) And, hurrah! I've just thought of a plot for chapter five of Divine Humiliation. Hopefully, I'll publish that one before the last of Abyss. If not, then right after. Cheers!


	29. Small Steps

**Abyss **

****

"In death," Dumbledore said slowly, his face sad, cheerless, "in death there is no status. No power. No knowledge of right and wrong, no sides of evil or good. In death, everybody is equal." His eyes met Draco's for a second. "We all come from dust, and to dust we all shall return." He addressed the people behind them, mostly professors, Aurors, leaders of the attack. "Let it be said that in this burial souls will be put to eternal rest, to join the souls of children and adults, victims and perpetrators alike. May their days be filled with peace, and our days be filled with remembrance and love." He bowed, placing a hand over his chest as a sign of respect for the deceased. The others mimicked this, also bending with their hands over their hearts.

Draco did not move his head. In fact, he did not move at all.

His hands felt cold and numb, like his blood were frozen in his veins. One was free, the other trapped inside Granger's hold on him. He fixed his eyes at the tombstones in front of him; the slabs of marble were bare, with no intricate carving or design except for the words etched upon them. _Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy. Beloved parents. They will be missed. _How simple these words were, how completely _plain_. Were they all? Were these words the summary of his parents' lives? Was that how their existence was to be reduced, as nothing more than _beloved parents _who would be _missed_?

Dumbledore straightened, and took a single white rose from a basket that was laid in front of him. He flung it over the tombs, where it fell just between the two names. "Rest in peace, Lucius, Narcissa."

Snape came in second; taking a rose from the basket he, too, threw it over the tomb. Then came McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and the other people who attended.

Granger took one and delicately laid it over the grave of Draco's mother, careful not to kneel over the roses that barely covered a fourth of the tomb. With his free hand Draco took a red rose, but instead of laying it over he held it tightly, causing thorns to scratch his skin. When she stood, she noticed this but did not say anything about it.

"Accept my condolences, Draco," the Headmaster said, the lines on his face pronounced and acute. He patted Draco's shoulder gently. "If you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to let me know."

He just nodded.

McGonagall came to him, her face also showing distinct marks of age and unhappiness. "Mr. Malfoy, I am terribly sorry for your loss."

She was sincere in her words, this Draco knew. "Thank you."

Flitwick and Sprout approached them, and both patted his hand. Draco accepted their condolences with a curt nod.

Then came Snape. His skin was shallower, his skin paler than ever before. He stood before Draco, not reaching out to touch him like the others did which was a small relief. "Draco," he said, his voice solemn, "you must—"

A burst of anger flared inside him, and he clenched his fist, the thorns stabbing his flesh open but he never allowed himself to show his pain. He kept his eyes over the name of his father as he bit out, "Spare me."

He could hear Snape's breathing become shorter, and he knew if he looked at the professor he'd see pity on his face. He didn't want any of it, not from anybody, especially not from _him. _"I am truly sorry, Draco."

Draco couldn't care less if he was. A thousand curses flew to his lips, but he clamped them shut. After all, this was a day for respect, not for another murder.

"Professor—" Granger spoke abruptly, but faltered on what more she could say.

"I know, Miss Granger," Snape answered in a low voice. And then, with one last glance at Draco he left.

Draco received the succeeding pats and touches with cool indifference, thinking that these people were indeed _hypocrites_ to be attending the burial of two of the most despised people in their world. Shouldn't they be off rejoicing somewhere? But some small part of him was glad they were here – their presence in the cemetery somehow added authenticity to his fantasy that people actually _cared_ about his family, that in their deaths his parents' blind ambition and blind devotion to the wrong side could be overlooked.

At last, they were gone, leaving him and Granger alone. At last, he laid his rose on top of the others, its vivid red reminding him of blood and death. "Goodbye, Mother, Father," he whispered, his voice passive and calm.

He felt her squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back, silently thanking her for staying with him. Draco appreciated _her_ presence above all things – it was _she_ who supported him with her words and tears and love. When he found out that his father was among those who died… there wasn't any doubt in his mind that it was Parkinson who did it, after all, hadn't she said something about _eliminating threats_? He remembered feeling anguished and grieved, his pain blinding him for a moment, almost causing him to collapse. He remembered Granger's arms trapping his body to hers, making him unable to do anything but lean onto her. He remembered her caresses as she soothed him, her hands gentle in their assault on his fingers, arms, back.

She'd stayed with him through this entire journey, from the bitter start to the bitter end. And for that he was grateful.

Granger lifted her other hand and caressed his cheek. The simple touch was nearly enough to break his facade, and for a moment he wanted to grieve, to let tears fall from his eyes, to properly mourn. But of course he wouldn't dare cry. He was all that's left to carry on the Malfoy name, and he'd be damned to tarnish it with tears.

Instead, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes holding hers captive as he did. Her eyes were drowning in pools she was shedding _for_ him, and at that moment he knew she had never looked more beautiful to him, or been more beloved by him.

Draco leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her twin trails of tears wetting his cheeks, and when he drew away he wiped them with his thumbs. "It's over," he said. "It's finished."

-

Hermione nodded, understanding what he meant. She took a deep breath, calming herself down. "Just know," she said softly and with difficulty, stepping closer to him. "I'm here for you." She gave his hand another squeeze.

"I won't forget."

"Good." She smiled a little, hoping to coax the same from him.

He didn't smile back.

Her heart ached for him, as he looked down at the tombs of his parents. They were buried alongside those who died in the attacks. A lot of wizards and witches – parents foremost – protested against this, saying that as Death Eaters they should _not_ be given the honor, the _decency,_ of a proper burial. They should be _burned_, disposed off like the criminals and animals that they truly were. Dumbledore quelled this, and whatever he did Hermione was grateful for it because he _was_ able to silence these people. What's more, at the burial the Headmaster presided over the ceremony as a guide to Malfoy. Truly, they owed a great debt of gratitude to him.

Hermione watched as Malfoy took all the insults thrown at his parents without as much as a flinch. It must hurt him to see that more people hated his parents than those who loved them. And it hurt her to see that he was doing his best to keep everything locked within him, that he didn't want anybody, including _her_, to know he was in pain. It was best, she thought, to have him mourn now than allow him to continue without doing so.

"I know you hurt," she began softly, "and I know you will never cry. It pains me to see you like this, Malfoy. Sooner or later you have to let your grief come through."

"I will," he said, startling her with his candor. "But not right now." He went still for a moment, and to Hermione it seemed as though he was mulling over what to say next. Then, "I know they're both dead, but the one thing that consoles me is that the one who murdered them is also dead." Malfoy stared at her straight in the eye. "It consoles me that _I _was the one who killed her."

"I understand."

"Do you? How could you?" he asked. "Don't you know only _murderers_ derive pleasure from their kill? And you were there when I killed her, weren't you? You saw how I did it. You saw how much I _enjoyed_ tormenting her, how I _loved _making her suffer. That makes me—"

"I don't care," she snapped, taking her hand away from his.

"Don't you?" he asked again. "Don't you _really _care that you love a—"

"Don't say it!" Hermione said, feeling her temper flare. Damn it, why was he bringing this up now, of all times? "You're not one of them, Draco. You're _not_. You proved that when you saved me, when you came with us, when you _sided _with us. What more do you want? A plaque? A trophy? A medal to prove to yourself you're not a murderer? You believed it so strongly before. Why doubt now? When would you start believing it _again_?"

He became silent.

She bit her lip, putting a lid over her emotions. "I—I'm sorry," she said sullenly, looking away. "I shouldn't have… I mean, that was… I'm sorry." She didn't dare meet his eyes.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand with a swift motion that surprised her. "Let's get back to the castle."

Hermione felt awful. Her stomach curled uncomfortably, guilt gnawed at her insides, and her conscience berated her. _I shouldn't have said that! __Damn it, I should've been more understanding, more careful. His parents are dead, for Merlin's sake! What was I thinking, screaming at him like—_

"Thank you."

She was too caught up with her thoughts she almost didn't hear him speak. "For what?"

He turned to her. "For believing in me." And for the first time in what seemed like a couple of days, Draco Malfoy smiled at her.

At that moment, he had never looked more handsome to her, or been more beloved by her.

The mood around them noticeably brightened, like a shroud had been lifted off their shoulders. She was relieved to be free of the awkwardness between them, and Hermione felt her steps quicken as she walked with him back to Hogwarts. And then, from out of nowhere dawned an inspiration. "You know," she began lightly, "I've thought of a name for you."

He caught on to what she was insinuating quickly. "Equally foul as Mudblood?"

She shook her head. "No," she said gravely. "Something fouler."

He smirked. "Let's hear it."

Hermione grinned and planted a swift kiss on his cheek. "My hero."

Malfoy grimaced, his fine nose wrinkling in disgust. "You're right. It _is_ fouler than Mudblood. I hate it already."

"Or," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken, "my knight. I haven't decided between the two yet."

"Don't," he pleaded. "You're making me sound like Potter."

"I know." She smirked, earning a chuckle from him. "Isn't it _foul_?"

-

He watched the ceremony quietly, not wanting to disturb the people or let himself be seen by them. Frankly, he wasn't at all saddened by the deaths, so why should he be hypocritical about them? Harry stood a few meters away, his form enclosed in the shadow of the tree that doubled as his barrier. He rested his palm over the smooth bark, his eyes resting on Hermione and Malfoy. The Slytherin's face was passive as he looked down on the two mounds of earth before him, as though he cared not that they contained the bodies of his parents. He seemed unfeeling, not bothered by the fact that the two people who gave him to the world were _dead_. But of course, only Hermione's desperate clutching at him betrayed the fact that Malfoy _did _care, that he did _feel_. She held him as though she knew he was going to fall any minute, like she knew his feet would be unable to support him as he stood once she let go of him. But wasn't that always the case with Hermione; that she _always_ knew more than what Harry saw?

Very few people attended the burial, and after a few words were said these people started to leave. They either patted Malfoy's shoulder or shook his hand, parting with condolences most probably. Malfoy just stared at them, the politeness on his face palpably forced – like he didn't want to see these people, but couldn't help but do so.

Finally, the two were left alone in the midst of the vast burial site.

Hermione lifted her free hand and placed it on Malfoy's cheek. He took that hand and brought it to his lips. He then leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth.

Harry turned away.

A few moments passed, and when he looked he found them to be on their way back to the castle. They walked hand in hand, and apparently Hermione said something funny because Malfoy laughed.

Harry waited until Hogwarts had engulfed the two before he removed himself from the tree's shadow. Using slow steps he approached the tombs of Malfoy's parents, and stood at the exact place their son occupied seconds ago. He gazed at the tombstones, read them – he couldn't help it, a sneer came to his face as he read the part where Mr. and Mrs. Lucius Malfoy were described as _Beloved Parents._

_And this, all _this,_ is nothing but a slumber party. _

He looked away, his eyes falling over the different graves, some of them freshly covered with dirt and soil. Death Eater graves. One by one, he counted all of Voldemort's servants who perished during the reclaiming of Hogwarts. He matched that to the number of casualties reported to Dumbledore from the night the school was taken from them.

The latest figure didn't even reach a quarter of those classmates, _friends_ of his, who died.

More Death Eaters _must_ be found, and slain. More must be discovered from their hiding places and be put where they rightfully belonged.

Regaining Hogwarts was only a small step in achieving peace in their world. Larger deeds must be accomplished in order to get rid of the evil that cloaked them.

And Voldemort…

Harry shook his head, dismissing the thought, or at least postponing it. Shoving his hands into his pockets he stared at Lucius Malfoy's grave. "I'm—" he muttered, not feeling ridiculous at all for speaking to no one, "I'm _not _sorry."

Then he, too, returned to the castle.

END

**Author's Notes: **I can't believe this is the last set of notes that I'd be leaving you guys for this story. What else can I say that I haven't said before? At the risk of sounding repetitive, I say it again: **Thank you**. Without your reviews, I wouldn't have had the inspiration to finish this story. Very, _very_ rare it is for me to finish something of this length (you should've heard how the other fandoms cursed at me for leaving unfinished stories behind!) and a 29-chaptered story is definitely a feat. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Especially to those who reviewed almost all the chapters… as much as I want to name names I won't because I might forget someone and that is humiliating, isn't it? But thank you very much. I appreciate all your support.

As many of you have noticed, I didn't make Voldemort the big baddie in this story. He wasn't even mentioned in the previous chapters. It was just that I felt, being that this story is very much D/Hr, giving Harry the limelight of killing Voldemort would be stealing D/Hr's thunder, so to speak. Just so to clear things up ;)

Well, this is the end, folks. Thank you very much for reading, and see you guys in Divine Humiliation or any other story I come up with in the future!


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